


Disparate

by unholyseraphs (oncharredwings)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Death and Ressurrection, Fluff, H.E.A.V.E.N., Healing, M/M, Pain, Resurrection, Science Experiments, angels are pets, basically people die and come back okay?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 20:23:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2164008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oncharredwings/pseuds/unholyseraphs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>H.E.A.V.E.N. - Humane Evolution and Viral Eugenic Network - runs the market when it comes to exotic pets for purchase, and not your fluffy dogs or cats, but something new entirely. In this new world, Dick Roman, has made whole new possibilities with his creations, angels being one of them. However, in a myriad of robotic and obedient angels, Roman decided to have a handful of new angels bred, ones that could think, feel, and have a passion for humanity, but he deemed the Thirteen a mistake and had them all destroyed or so he believed, until a wandering, broken-winged angel, appears on the streets, about to be terminated by those who are in charge of keeping unruly pets in line. Dean Winchester just wants to go home after a long day of work, he has no desire to be involved in this "pet" business, but he also isn't about to let a frightened angel be gunned down int he streets, which is how he ends up with Castiel, also known as Zero, and true to form, Dean finds himself in much deeper waters than he had first expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I've had this story in my damn drafts for FOREVER since I was going to use it for my DCBB but ended up writing something else entirely for DCBB '14, so I have finally decided to post this one online to tide you all over for the wait of the next part of "Bad Blood".

 “You had something you wanted to show me?”

 “Yes, Mr. Roman.”

 The head of the Humane Evolution and Viral Eugenic Network’s science department nodded at Dick Roman, the CEO of the company. He and his scientists had worked through the night to perfect their newest models of angels, and he was certain they had gotten the recipe right this time.

 “Well then, lead the way.” Dick gestured for the scientist, whose name was Kevin, but he never remembered their names,  to continue onward. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead making the  shadows jump and move throughout the white hallway with every step they took. The clack of perfectly fitted loafers echoed around the unusually quiet facility as they walked. . “Where is everyone?”

 “Oh, well that’s where I am taking you Mr. Roman,” Kevin replied, quickly. “We’ve had a breakthrough.”

 “Have you? Good, I was beginning to lose my faith in your abilities.” Dick watched in amusement as Kevin’s cheeks turned red. They had to stop so Kevin could remove a keycard and get them through the doors, which were locked. “And you know what happens to  people I lose faith in.”

 “Yes Sir,” Kevin muttered quietly as he lead Dick through the opening doors, into a lab. The room was white, just like the hallway and all of the other rooms in H.E.A.V.E.N.’s facility.  Roman gazed down from the balcony at the walls of cages filled with creatures, from vampires to faeries, shapeshifters to werewolves, and most importantly, the angels. When Dick founded the company, he had started with a simple math equation, a chemistry set, and a desire to make the creatures in his childhood stories come to life. No one had believed he could complete such an impossible task, but now he was barely thirty-five, the richest man alive, and owner of a flourishing business.

 Thanks to him _, everyone_ wanted their very own exotic pet. The creatures from faerie tales were now available for purchase to just about anyone; they came in tiers, with angels being the most expensive and sought after.

 The metal stairs that spiraled down into the room clanked and clattered as he and Kevin made their way down into the room where another group of scientists sat huddled around a table. Excitement pulsed through  Dick’s body as he realized that maybe, just maybe, they had finally figure out the perfect formula for angels. Creating angels had always been the trickiest formula, and they had never worked out before; they were always too unstable and would constantly destruct themselves.

 “Did you do it?” he asked,  unable to keep the excitement from his voice. “Did you make them?”

 The group parted to reveal a man chained to a table, his black wings shivering and shaking while men and women poked and prodded at him. The excitement filled Dick to his core as he walked up to the man on the table. The angel had eyes so blue that when they locked gazes, Dick could not help but wonder if somehow they had harnessed Heaven, the Biblical Heaven, and stored it in this angel’s eyes.

 “Is he... acceptable Sir?” one of the scientists asked timidly.

 Dick smiled and gently tilted the angel’s chin up to examine his face more clearly. As far as Dick could tell, this was the most perfect specimen that they had ever created. “Yes,” he replied quickly. “Tattoo him.”

 “We already have,” Kevin offered.

 “What’s his number?” Dick asked as he continued to study the naked angel.

 "Zero.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me preface by _apologizing_ if this is not up to par with my other fics - I started this a really long time ago and have been trying to edit and re-write but I finally just wanted to post this thing since it's been in my drafts for forever like I said, so hopefully this will tide you all over while I write "After the Fall" - part 2 of Bad Blood.

The pain in his feet could never be greater than the pain throbbing through his wings- his previous owner had clipped and broken them so badly that he could barely feel them dragging on the concrete behind his tired body. Time had slipped past him for so many days now that Castiel was not completely sure how long he had been on the road or where he was. Sometime between dawn and now, he had wandered into a sleeping town with no cars on the street or people going from place to place; if Castiel didn’t know any  better, he would have guessed he had ended up in a ghost town. There weren’t even Keepers wandering the outskirts, an observation Castiel was quite thankful for. He had no desire to deal with Keepers on top of walking around without papers or his owner.

 “Halt!”

 

 Castiel froze in his place; he had gotten his hopes up too soon he realized. The Keepers, in their white outfits and cattle prods, were storming up the street towards him, and Castiel yearned, with every fiber of his being, to run away, but he was too tired. His wings were broken and his feet were bleeding from all the walking he had done  the past few weeks.

 

 “Raise your hands above your head and do not move,” the Keepers demanded him as they continued to approach him.

 

Panic filled his chest as Castiel began to back up, glancing over his shoulder now and again. If he tried to get away they would shoot him, but perhaps death would not be such a terrible fate. There were much worse fates Castiel had learned after suffering at the hands of cruel men. The Keepers warned him again and Castiel felt fear surge through his body, calling what little Grace he could to his hands.

 

“If you don’t back down, we _will_ shoot,” the Keepers said.

 

Castiel’s wings shook, and he tried in vain to flutter them but they remained broken and mangled. The sound of the guns being loaded, their safeties released reached his ears. He could only sink down to the ground in fear, his hands going to cover his face when a strong, deep voice boomed across the street.

 

**◆◇◆◇**

 

“What kind of person _keeps_ pets like that?” Dean asked with a roll of his eyes.

 

“Cruel people,” came the answer and Dean wanted to slap himself in the face.

 

“Benny I didn’t mean-”

 

The old vampire waved his hand in dismissal. “I know you weren’t talkin’ about me brother,” he said gently.

 

Benny, whom Dean had been friends with for years, gave him a sad smile. Benny had been set free by his last owner a year before he and Dean had met, but up until that point, he had been traded from owner to owner, and family to family. Some of the creatures had it easy; unicorns and mermaids for example. They were owned by people who usually would take care of them and show them no harm, but Benny, a vampire, had dealt with mistreatment his entire life.

 

Dean sighed and shook his head again, finally reaching to change the channel. The latest news story had been playing on loop all day and Dean was tired of hearing about it. A famous celebrity, Bela something or other, had been found dead in her home after her angel _pet_ had burnt her alive from the inside out. Everyone _knew_ that angels were the most dangerous pet out there, and Dean had _no_ idea what possessed people to buy them in the first place. Not to mention, if it looked like a person and could act like a person, Dean was rather convinced that it _was_ a person and did not deserve to wear collars for fashion’s sake or be shown off like an animal. As far as Dean was concerned, Benny was a person and anyone who saw otherwise could shove off.

 

The last glass was cleaned and lined up Dean realized, which meant that he could pass his shift over to Benny and finally go home. The week had been so long that Dean just wanted to stretch out on his recliner with an ice cold beer and snooze as he watched television, and since it was Friday and he had the weekend off. He could go out, find a bar, find some cute women, get some numbers, and maybe get laid. That sounded like a perfect way to end his long week.

 

“I _know_ that look,” Benny chortled in amusement.

 

Dean smirked and nodded in acquiescence. “So what if I wanna go find myself some ass? It’s been a while for me, alright? Cut me some slack.”

 

Benny grinned and gave Dean a slight push. “Go on, get!”

 

Dean gave Benny another knowing smile as he stumbled away from the bar to the back so he could gather his coat and belongings. Baby was still sitting where he left her, clean and pristine, which was what Dean loved to see. It was just after dawn now,  all Dean wanted to do was get some sleep. However when he heard the Keepers making some ruckus off to the front of the bar, Dean gave pause. He was not a fan of the Keepers; they were supposed to be there to make sure that Roman’s fantastical creatures did not cause bodily harm to the humans, but Dean felt like he was trapped in _1984_. Big Brother was watching and he didn’t like it, not one bit.

 

He was about to get into his car and leave but the words _we will shoot_ , made him walk around the back and up the alley next to the bar. There cowered a naked, bleeding, and terrified angel in the street. Dean watched in rage as the poor creature crumpled to the ground in fear, arms rising protectively around his head. Honestly, Dean had no idea what possessed him to call out and dash into the line of fire, and it wasn’t until he was halfway out that he realized it was probably not the wisest course of action. He would have time to think about that later, but for now Dean raised his arms to signal for the Keepers to stop. He took a deep breath, his shoulders going back, and his chest puffing out before yelling, “Don’t shoot him!”

 

The Keepers, in their white uniforms, some with cattle prods, and others with guns, paused. He could only hope that the creature was either too weak or too afraid to attack him. “Please, don’t shoot him,” he said again quickly, as he laid hand gently on the angel’s head. “I _told_ you to stay by the house.” Dean scolded the creature and hoped that his high school acting classes would pay off. “You know better than to run off.”

 

“This is your angel?” came a skeptical voice and Dean glanced back at the Keeper who had addressed him; if Dean remembered him correctly, his name was Gordon. They had went to school together, and Gordon had always been a hotshot, who had wanted to show off, be a teacher’s pet. He had also been a bully, and now he was a professional bully.

 

“Yeah,” Dean replied. The angel looked up at him in fear but Dean gently pet his hair, trying to keep him calm and to keep up the facade that he actually belonged to him. Dean slowly looked back to Gordon and he felt his anger bubbling to the surface. He had never liked Gordon- the guy was a sick psycho who only liked being a Keeper because he got to inflict pain on others who didn’t follow the rules. “He is.”

“Why was he wandering around then?” Gordon inquired, but at least Dean noted that he had lowered his gun.

 

“He likes to wander,” Dean supplied, “even though I keep _tellin_ ’ him to stay by the damn house.” He pulled the angel’s head by his hair, eliciting a whimper;  the sound made Dean want to kick himself but if he wanted to save the angel’s life, he would have to pretend to be mean. All angel owners were expected to be cruel. Actually, most exotic pet owners were cruel and abused their _pets_.

 

“You got his papers?” Gordon snapped.

 

“Not on me.” Crap. Dean hadn’t thought about the legalities of owning any creature, least of all an angel. Not only were angels the most expensive pet, but they were also the hardest to own. There were so many hoops that had to be jumped through, and Dean was certain some of them had flames burning to try and catch the unqualified off guard. They were also the most dangerous, the regulations miles long.

 

“Hm,” Gordon gave him another skeptical look, but Dean could tell that the Keepers had no choice but to believe him for the moment. “We’ll be back to check up on you… Just to make sure he’s staying where he’s supposed to.”

 

Dean nodded. “Of fucking course,” he growled quietly, reaching to get the angel by the arm and pull him along. Once Dean was out of the sight of the Keepers, he immediately released his tight grip on the angel’s arm and turned to look him over. The angel’s wings were what caused him the most worry. They appeared mangled, as if someone had tried to shove them through a grinder. The smell of infection permeated the air and while Dean had no desire to put that smell in his Baby, but he also had to get this angel back to his house somehow.

 

“What’s your name?” Dean asked casually as he opened the trunk to see if there were any towels or blankets he could place on the seats for the angel to sit on. When the angel did not respond, Dean turned his gaze back on the creature and wondered if he knew English. “Can you talk?”

 

The angel nodded quickly and glanced around nervously before focusing his eyes on the ground. “Yes, Sir,” he whispered.

 

“Sir?” Dean snorted and waved his hand. “I’m Dean. Dean Winchester. What’s your name?”

 

“My brothers and sisters call me Castiel,” he replied quietly.

 

“Castiel? That’s a nice name, but I’m gonna call you Cas. Okay?” Dean gave Castiel a kind smile before finally finding a towel and quickly draping it over the front seat where Castiel could sit and rest. “Sorry for scaring you earlier.”

 

Castiel shrugged broad shoulders. “You saved me,” he whispered.

 

“Yeah,” Dean said with his own shrug. “It was no big deal, I just didn’t want them to shoot ya.” He smiled broadly and gestured for Castiel to get into the car. “Come on, let’s get you back to the house. I’ll see what I can do for your wings, okay?”

 

Castiel nodded, shuffling over to sit in the front seat, his movements slow, the fit in the front seat tight, and Dean could see he was trying not to jar his wings on anything. Dean flinched and gently shut the door, hurrying over to his own side so they could leave. He lived in an old, small, white house about fifteen minutes outside the main town on a lonely road. He had bought the house with his own hard earned money and that was what made Dean love it, despite all of its quirks. But Dean also knew that he would never be able to pass Castiel off as actually his, knowing his financial and housing situation; he did not have the space required for an angel, nor did he have the funds. In a few days, Castiel would be taken away from him, if he did not find a solution quickly.

 

Castiel sat quietly beside him the entire time, even when they hit a few potholes along the way. Dean apologized each time. Normally, he apologized to Baby, but he would apologize to her later, since Castiel was the one who happened to be in agony. His driveway was dirt and the recent abundance of rain had, consequently, left it muddy and full of puddles. This in mind, Dean attempted to park her in an area where there would be the least amount of mudd and soggy grass.

 

“I’ll help you, just a sec-” Dean yanked his keys from the ignition, pushed the car door open, and then briskly walked around Baby to ease Castiel’s door open. He offered his arm and Castiel held on so tightly that Dean knew it would bruise. Nonetheless, he kept a stoic mask on as they walked to the house at a snail’s pace. The house was clean inside, since he did not like messes, but with the rate Castiel dropped feathers he was going to have to clean again. The front room housed his TV, favorite leather recliner, and a beaten up couch he had bought at a yard sale when he had first moved in. He walked Castiel past the couch and back to the kitchen, cramped with only his dining table.

 

Castiel let out a small groan as Dean eased him into a wooden chair. “Does it hurt?” he asked, almost kicking himself, because of _course_ it had to hurt. How could it not?

 

Castiel looked up at him, face a mix of agony and nausea. Dean wanted to wrap the angel up in his arms to cradle and comfort - but not before he had some medical attention. “Yes, it hurts,” came the grave reply.

 

Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Well, first thing’s first, I’m gonna make a phone call and see if I can get you to a doctor, okay? And then, I’m going to call my brother and see if he can help us out. Are you hungry?”

 

“I do not require food,” Castiel replied matter of factly. Dean wondered if it was some type of robotic response programmed into him. “Or drink.”

 

“Oh, okay. Well, you just sit tight then, okay? I’m gonna make that phone call.” When the angel nodded, Dean stepped outside through the backdoor to stare into the lining of trees behind his house. There was only one doctor he knew for sure that would see Castiel, and that was Dr. Chuck Shurley. His offices were a few hours away in the city but Dean was more than willing to drive it if the man could help Castiel.

 

The phone rang a few times before a cheerful voice answered, “Heaven’s Helpers office, this is Becky, how can I help you?”

 

Dean wanted to roll his eyes at the name of the damn place, it was a free clinic for the creatures H.E.A.V.E.N. produced. In Dean’s opinion, it was more of a vet’s office than real doctor’s office, but it was the best option he had at the moment. “Uh, yeah, I have an emergency-”

 

“Kind of creature?” came the immediate response.

 

“Angel.”

 

A long pause and then, “And the problem?”

 

Dean glanced back at the kitchen window where he could still see Castiel sitting at the table. “His wings are fucked up,” he replied after a small pause. “I don’t know what happened to him, he’s not mine. I found him, and he needs help. Please.”

 

There was another pause, and Dean feared that he had just screwed himself over. “Dr. Shurley has a walk in available at four, you should bring him in then,” Becky told him, her voice lowering, as if she feared someone would hear her.

 

“We’ll be there,” Dean promised quickly, checking the time on his watch. They would have to leave now if he had any hope of getting Castiel to the office in time. Becky was saying something else but Dean was hanging up and rushing back into the house. “Hey, we gotta go. Come on.”

 

Castiel looked up at him in confusion. “Go?”

 

“I’m taking you to a doctor to get looked at. C’mon.” Dean gestured at Castiel to hurry and finally the angel understood the message, and they were hurrying - as best as Castiel _could_ hurry -  back out to the car, where Dean helped him inside.

 

“Doctor?” Castiel asked as if he had never heard the term before.

 

“Uh, yeah, it’s a person who can help your wings. Hopefully he can fix them.” Dean was about to drive away when he realized then that Castiel was still naked. “Shit-”

 

“Hm?” Castiel tilted his head to the side but Dean slid back out of the car and into the house before answering him. He couldn’t take a naked angel into the clinic. He made a beeline for his bedroom and yanking open his dresser to pull out a pair of jeans. Wearing a shirt would be out of the question for now, so these would have to do.

 

“What are these?” Castiel asked, his fingers wrapping around the pants in confusion.

 

Dean sighed and slid into the car again. “They’re for you to wear. Put them on. I can’t take you around naked.”

 

Castiel awkwardly began to wriggle the jeans on, lifting his hips slowly to ease them up his thighs. Dean tried not to stare, but the guy was well-built, and well endowed, from what he could see. He shook his head; he couldn’t just start checking Cas out, he needed to get him to the doctor.  The impala rumbled as he turned her on, “It’s gonna be a while, so um...sorry. Before we get there, that is.” He had no idea why he was apologizing to the angel but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

 

“You saved my life,” Castiel replied with a small smile, “thank you for that.”

 

Dean smiled back shyly and waved his hand, trying to dismiss the angel’s thanks. “It was no big deal. Really.”

 

Castiel hummed before turning to look out the window as the landscape went by. “I think I am going to like it here,” was the angel’s reply and Dean wanted to question him what he meant, but refrained. He knew vaguely that angels really did _believe_ that they were creatures of God, and that they came from Heaven, and not the company with the same namesake. He was not sure if Castiel _realized_ that he had been made in a lab, and not as a cosmic and divine being.

 

The rest of the ride to Chuck’s office was quiet, which Dean didn’t mind since he wasn’t even sure how to have a conversation with an angel anyway. The office was busy, as always, filled to the brim with people and creatures. Some Dean recognized and others he didn’t. He kept his hand around Castiel’s wrist to keep the angel close - some of the ‘pets’ looked like they would bite anyone - before walking up to the front window where a blonde woman sat in a chair. She had to be Becky. “Ugh hi, I’m Dean-I called earlier…?”

 

“Oh, right,” Becky said.“We’ll see you shortly. Um-...fill out what you can, okay?” She passed him a clipboard with paperwork on it and Dean nodded, walking Castiel over to a seat where they could sit and he could study the paperwork.

 

“This place is very loud,” Castiel said to him, as Dean realized he couldn’t fill the forms out at all.

 

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Dean muttered back to him as he wrote Castiel’s name on the top of the page. “Is that how you spell your name? C-A-S-T-I-E-L-L-E?”

 

“Close,” Castiel replied. “There is no L-E at the end. But that doesn’t matter-”

 

“Of course it matters,” Dean replied quickly as he erased the letters. _Castiel_. He really did like that name. “Who named you?”

 

“My Father,” Castiel replied with a proud smile.

 

“Oh. Right.” Dean felt a pang of sadness fill his chest when he realized Castiel really did believe he had been created by God. “Well, it’s a good name.”

 

The angel’s cheeks darkened. “Thank you, Dean.”

 

“Yeah, don’t mention it.” Dean stood slowly, his eyes moving around the room. There were so many sick pets around that it made him want to wrap Castiel up to keep him from getting sick too, which was ridiculous because Dean didn’t even know Castiel. Nor did he want to _own_ him; he had no desire to have an exotic pet. Once Castiel was well and his wings were healed, he would let the angel go. He was a _person_ after all, not an animal.

 

The place resembled a vet’s office and Dean hated that; why did these creatures have to be treated like animals when most of them acted like people? He could understand why a unicorn or some other furry creature needed to see a vet, but the other things, the more humanoid creatures, were _people_. Dean shifted around in his seat a few times, ready to bolt from the room, since it felt too cramped and too loud, but then Becky ushered them back. Relieved, Dean lead Castiel back to the room she had ready for them.

 

Castiel had to sit on a cold metal table - not even a soft one with that crinkly paper, but a cold slab like in a morgue. _Or a vet’s office_ , he reminded himself. Becky took her time and checked all of his vitals, making notes on a chart here and there. She smiled after taking his temperature, and remarked that Castiel was in _good health_ , before having him slip out of the jeans in favor of a hospital gown that she did not bother to close.

 

“The doctor will be in in just a few minutes,” Becky said to them, and they were alone in the room together.  Dean sighed heavily; waiting on doctors was one of the worst feelings in the entire universe, but at least he was not the one about to be examined. Castiel stared at the ceiling and swung his legs slowly, his hands rested in his lap. Dean was about to strike up a conversation when a knock to the door saved him, followed by Dr. Shurley’s entrance.

 

“Good afternoon,” Chuck greeted with a smile as he shut the door, “I’m Dr. Shurley, but you can call me Chuck. No need to be so formal. You must be-....” Chuck looked at the chart in his hand, “Castiel?”

 

Castiel nodded, his eyes wide. “Yes.”

 

“It’s nice to meet you Castiel.” Chuck spun around to face Dean, a polite smile on his face. “Hello, are you Castiel’s owner?”

 

“Um-” Dean was about to deny it but Castiel beat him to the punchline.

 

“Yes,” Castiel replied quickly.

 

“Well not exactly-” Dean protested, but as soon as he said the words, the angel slumped as if Dean had struck him. That was strange. “It’s complicated.”

 

“I see….well...Becky did say that you had found him but we’ll just go under the assumption that you own him, alright?” Chuck smiled and then he turned to put on some gloves. “I can see you’ve got a big mess back there, mind if I take a look?”

 

“I didn’t do that,” Dean said in his own defense,  as Chuck went to put on some latex gloves. “I found him like that-”

 

“I believe you,” Chuck replied gently. “Most cruel owners would not bother to take their pets to a doctor if they had caused them bodily harm.”

 

Dean nodded and stood, instinctively walking over to stand by Castiel and soon the angel was reaching for his hands to hold. Dean allowed this. He could feel Castiel trembling, recognized the fear in his eyes. “It’s okay Cas,” he said reassuringly. “The doctor is gonna help you, not hurt you, okay?”

 

Chuck nodded as he gently examined Castiel’s wings. “That’s right. Hmm….well, whomever _did_ do this to him did a botch job.”

 

“Did what to him?” Dean asked as he leaned over Castiel’s shoulder to look.

 

“They’ve clipped him but they’ve cut much too high on the wings. Clipping is never meant to be painful or harmful; it is simply done to keep an angel from flight, but whoever clipped his wings damaged the nerves and muscles too.” Chuck sighed, trying to gently examine Castiel, but he jerked and cried out, trying to pull away. “I’m sorry,” Chuck apologized.  

 

Dean glared, even though he knew that Chuck hadn’t meant to hurt Castiel. “You’re okay buddy,” he cooed. He slid his hands up to pet Castiel’s hair again, until the angel nuzzled at his hands eagerly, almost catlike. “Can you help him?”

 

“I believe so,” Chuck mused quietly. “However, it’s going to take some extensive surgery….and it’s costly.”

 

“Of course it is,” Dean muttered. He would have to have that talk with Sam sooner than he had thought. “How much?”

 

“I won’t know until I get him in for a surgical consultation. But once he has the damage repaired he won’t be in anymore pain, I can promise that much.” Chuck smiled and removed his gloves, going to throw them in the biohazard bin. “Until then, I can prescribe him some pain medication, but I am not sure how much that will help.”

 

“Are they infected?” Dean asked.

 

“Hm, they could be,” Chuck mused quietly. “I can keep him overnight, give him a more thorough examination if you don’t mind. I promise, he’ll be in good hands.”

 

Dean looked at Castiel and saw the worry in his blue eyes. “He won’t hurt you Cas. He just wants to help.”

 

“Dean-” Castiel whimpered but after a moment, the angel nodded reluctantly. “I will stay.”

 

“Good boy,” Dean praised with another pet of his head. “When can I come and get him?” If he left Castiel here, he would have time to drive to Sam’s place and spring the surprise on him; they needed a plan of action anyway.

 

“Tomorrow evening, same time.” Chuck smiled and slid to the door. “Let me get some paperwork for you to sign, just basic stuff. You allowing us to care for him overnight, et. cetera.”

 

“Sure.” After Chuck left, Dean turned to face Castiel again. The angel seemed to tired and defeated that it made his heart ache. “You’re gonna be just fine Cas.”

 

Castiel nodded, but then Chuck had returned and Dean was signing more paperwork. He said goodbye to Castiel and then he was back at his car. It was time to give his little brother a surprise visit.

 

**◆◇◆◇**

 

“You are a grown ass man, _cut your fucking hair_ ,” Dean said as soon as Sam pulled the door of his house open, much to his younger brother’s chagrin.

 

“Hey to you too, Dean,” Sam replied with a roll of his eyes.

 

“I’m gonna do it one day. I know where your extra key is.” Dean grinned at Sam, even as he half teased, half threatened him, because Dean really did want to give that hair a cut. Of course, he had felt that way since Sam had graduated from law school.

 

“I don’t hear from you for weeks and _this_ is how you greet me?” Sam asked pulling Dean into a tight hug. “It’s good to see you too, Dean.”

 

Dean smiled and clapped Sam on the back; sometimes he still wondered when Sam had gone from snot-nosed brat to giant moose. Their whole lives seemed to blur in Dean’s memory and he almost felt sad that they had grown up so quickly. Of course, having a father in the military would do that to any kid. “So, unfortunately I didn’t drop by just to say hi, I have a problem that I’m hoping you can help me with.”

 

Sam shrugged. “Sure,” he replied before gesturing for them to walk down the hallway. Dean looked around at Sam’s house and realized that it had not changed much from when his brother had first bought it. He had gotten a deal from the owners and they had filled it with fancy furniture that Sam did not actually need, but had wanted. Since they had grown up poorly, Dean had believed that Sam deserved a bit of _want_ in his life, rather than only need.

 

“The place looks good,” Dean commented as he followed Sam to his living room.

 

“Thanks. So what’s up?” Sam sat down and gestured for Dean to do the same, which he did reluctantly.

 

“It’s um… complicated… well not really-it... Okay so I was getting off work and I was outside, about to hop into Baby and head home, right? Well I heard the damn Keepers being fucking _dicks_ , surprise, surprise, so I went out front to see what was going on, and there was this angel in the middle of the street, all torn up, naked, scared, they were gonna shoot him-so I-... I went over and I saved him, and I told them he was mine-”

 

“You _what_?!” Sam stared at him in complete disbelief. “Dean you can’t-you can’t just pass that off-”

 

“I _know_ Sammy, that’s why I’m here. He’s in real rough shape and they’re gonna come back in a few days..so I was hoping we could come up with a plan. I can’t just let them take him away, it’s not fair...” Dean stared at Sam pleadingly-  he hardly ever asked Sam for help, in fact he hardly ever asked _anyone_ for help. Even when he needed it, and they both knew that to be true.

 

Sam sighed heavily and ran a hand through his long hair. “Okay, well first off, we should run his numbers. See who he _does_ belong to first.. .and then after that, I can probably pull some strings. Pretend he’s mine for a bit, but that will only work for so long, Dean. You have to get him back to his original owner-”

 

“Dude, no,” Dean snapped, he was convinced that Castiel’s previous owner had been the one to break and mangle his wings. Taking Castiel back to the man who had tortured him was _not_ an option.

 

“Why not? You can’t just take someone’s legal property-” Sam began to protest but quickly shut up when Dean cast him a dark glance. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

 

“Yes you did,” Dean replied coldly. “He’s not _property_. he’s a _person_.”

 

“He’s not human Dean, he’s not a person! You have to accept that. He’s not even real for God’s sake, he’s a fabricated creature,” Sam protested. “I mean, no offense, it’s just how it is,” Sam sighed, “but I’ll try to help you for as long as I can.”

 

“Thanks Sam,” Dean muttered, even as he was starting to regret coming to his little brother for help. He should have went to Benny. _He_ understood more than anyone that Dean knew.

 

“Where is he right now?”

 

“He’s at the doctor. His wings were all screwed up when I found him. Pretty sure his last owner fucked him over real hard. He’s not going back to the guy who owned him, Sam, no way.” Dean shook his head firmly, completely settled on the matter. “So, when he gets out, do you want me to bring him here?”

 

“Yes. I have to run his numbers, see if I can at least track down his files. They’ll be online in H.E.A.V.E.N’s database, so we can least try to get that information for you… This was the dumbest idea you’ve ever had, you know that right?” Sam asked him skeptically.

 

Honestly, Dean knew that Sam was right; he knew that saving a wayward angel should have been last on his to do list, if it even made the list at all, but he had done it and he couldn’t go back on it now. He had done the right thing, and Dean had always had a soft spot for people less fortunate than himself. “Yeah I know,” he agreed quietly, “but that doesn’t make what I did wrong, and you know it.”

 

Sam sighed, “Okay. Let’s do some research.”

**◆◇◆◇**

“Ah, Mr. Winchester, welcome back,” Chuck greeted as he walked into the waiting room. “Well, I have good news. Your angel did have a minor infection, but after some anti-biotics it’s already looking very good, and he’ll be just fine as long as he continues his regimen.”

 

Dean wrung his hands with impatience. He was dying to know whether Castiel would be all right, and was worried the poor angel was terrified in this strange environment with people he didn’t know he could trust. “And he’s okay now, right?”

 

“He’s a little groggy, we’ve been giving him some medicine to help with the pain, but after last night’s episode he’s doing just fine-”

 

“Last night’s episode? What does that mean?” Dean demanded. “Is he alright? Why wasn’t I called-”

 

Chuck held up both of his hands to stop Dean in his tracks before beginning calmly, “Mr. Winchester-”

 

“Dean. Just call me Dean.”

 

“ _Dean_ then… Castiel is _fine_. Last night he put up a bit of a fight and we had to sedate him, but he’s _fine_.” Chuck glanced down at a file in his hands before looking back up at Dean who stared back as if he had lost his mind. “I promise.”

 

“Why did he put up a fight?” Dean wanted to pace but the room was too small to allow for such an act, so he remained where he stood, bouncing his weight from foot to foot nervously.

 

“Well, we believe that he was just simply afraid, which is completely fine. There is nothing wrong with him being apprehensive, but since he did put up quite a fight,we had to subdue him or risk further injury to himself or us. It was just precautionary.” Chuck smiled warmly at Dean to further placate him. “However, there is something I do wish to talk to you about.”

 

“What?”

 

“It’s his numbers… or rather, his lack of.”

 

Dean frowned and immediately stopped wriggling around impatiently. He turned his eyes on Chuck in confusion. As far as he knew, Castiel _had_ to have numbers; all of the creatures were registered in the  database, it was illegal for pets _not_ to be registered. “I don’t understand, he should have a serial number-”

 

“Oh, he does,” Chuck interceded. “He does. It’s just… Well, he only has one number on his arm, and commonly, all serial numbers have a sequence of eight.”

 

“What does that mean?” Dean folded his arms over his chest and frowned. How could Castiel only have one number on his inner arm? That made no sense.

 

“We have a theory but it _should_ be impossible...and if it is true...you and Castiel are in vast danger, Dean.” Chuck slowly sat down onto a stool, and Dean followed suit,  sinking onto a chair. “Castiel’s number is zero.”

 

“Zero? Just… zero?” Dean’s brows furrowed further. Zero. What did that even mean? Why was Castiel just _zero_? Of all the numbers, why was he a number that no one really gave a damn about anyway?

 

Chuck nodded gravely. “Yes, _just_ zero. You see Dean, if Castiel’s number is correct, then he is one of the Thirteen, and as far as we know, that is impossible. The Thirteen were destroyed years ago.”

 

“Whoa, whoa back up. What do you mean the _Thirteen_? What is that? Some type of gang?” Dean stared at Chuck incredulously; the doctor was making less and less sense. Thirteen? Thirteen _what_?

 

“The Thirteen were a model of angel that was made to,” Chuck paused to mull over his words...  “ _Better_ the species, so to speak. They started with Zero, aka Castiel, and from there they made thirteen more.”

 

“Copies?” Dean asked.

 

Chuck nodded again. “Yes, in a way. Not identical copies, but other angels like him… However, they were all destroyed after Dick Roman realized their potential to actually be more harmful than useful. You see, Castiel’s kind were made stronger, with more free will ingrained into their programming. They were hardwired to understand human emotion, and to have the capacity to _love_ humanity. They were not meant to be the robotic angels you see today, they were meant to be ferocious, caring, and loyal to their owners. Roman figured he would make more money off of them if the angels were more like the guardians in the Christian Bible. More like guard dogs than robots with zero emotion or understanding. It was a marketing ploy.”

 

“So what happened?” He had never heard this story before, but then again, H.E.A.V.E.N. was one of the most secretive companies in the world. Dean was not that surprised that he didn’t know its goings on.

 

“Well, the Thirteen began to grow a mind of their own, and with that came resistance. Slowly, they were supposedly all destroyed but… according to Castiel’s arm, that was not the case.” Chuck shrugged and gave Dean a look of full terror. Dean didn’t like that look. “It means, Dean, that if Zero is still walking, talking, and active that you two are in grave danger. The institution probably has no idea that Castiel is loose and on the move… but when they do find out? Well…” Chuck shrugged and Dean knew the stare he was receiving. It did not mean warm and fuzzy things.

 

If the Keepers found out that Castiel was indeed this _Zero_ , then he and Castiel were dead meat. It was only a matter of time before they came to scan Castiel’s arm. And he had thought trying to fake Castiel being his was the worst of his problems. “Son of a bitch,” he whispered.

 

“I am sorry that I cannot help you more Dean,” Chuck lamented. “I will do what I can, but my life is at stake here, if the Keepers found out that Castiel was _here_ and I didn’t report him...?” The doctor trailed off and Dean watched the color drain from his face. Chuck had just put himself, his family, friends, and practice in danger for Dean and one angel. He owed this man.

 

“I’m sorry, Chuck,” Dean said quietly. “You didn’t have to do this… I-I almost wish you hadn’t...for your own sake at least.”

 

Chuck sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Well, I always did like Canada.”

 

“What do you mean?” Dean frowned and cocked his head to the side.

 

“They can’t touch you once you’re over the border. I would take Castiel myself but I do not believe I could fly him. Once he is better, if I were you, I would head for the border. Trust me, you’re going to need to get out of the States as fast as possible.”

 

Dean felt his stomach drop. What had he gotten Sam and himself into? “Okay, thanks Doc. What about his surgery?”

 

“That, I am afraid, will have to wait. There is another doctor you could see. She is on the West Coast in Portland. Her name is Ellen Harvelle. She and her daughter run a clinic similar to this one. If you want his wings to be fixed, your best bet would be to go to her,” Chuck replied.

 

Dean nodded slowly, running a hand over his mouth. “Can I see him now?”

 

“Yes,” Chuck said quietly.  “Come with me.”

 

Dean stood and followed Chuck out of the room, into the back of the office where there were pets of all kinds being tended by nurses. Castiel was being held in a separate room Chuck explained, to keep everyone safe. His stomach churned. They were going to have to flee the States after Portland, leaving his life behind. Maybe he wouldn’t involve Sam after all.

 

“Dean!” Castiel called when the door was opened and Dean came to stand in the doorway.

 

“Hey Buddy,” he greeted warmly. “Come on, we gotta-” A scream resonated back through the hospital and Dean startled. “What the hell was that?!”

 

A nurse, Dean saw her name tag read _Lisa_ , was rushing back to them and Dean could see that she was bleeding. Her hands held onto her stomach, the blood gushing through her fingers. He fell away from the door trying to catch her as she fell.

 

“Lisa-” Chuck rushed over and slid to his knees in front of her, cupping her face. “What happened?”

 

“The Keepers are _here_ ,” she whispered weakly. “They’ve come-they’ve-”

 

Dean had seen a lot in his lifetime, but he had never seen a woman die in someone else’s arms before, at least not since his mother’s death, and that had not been nearly as traumatic as this. He slowly moved his eyes from the dead nurse to Castiel who looked just as afraid as he felt, but for the angel’s sake, Dean kept on a stoic mask. If he showed fear, Castiel would probably end up hurting himself or someone else.

 

“They’ve come for him,” Chuck said quietly. “You have to get out of here. There’s a backdoor, _go_.”

 

“Come with me,” Dean ordered as he held out an arm for Castiel, which the angel hurriedly slid from  bed to walk over. Taking Castiel’s arm gently, Dean began to lead him away and down the hall where Chuck gestured. There was a glowing red exit sign that reminded Dean of the blood on Lisa’s uniform. Just as he was pushing the door open, the fire alarms began to go off, followed by more gun shots. Castiel was either shaking from fear or rage, Dean wasn’t completely sure which, nor was he certain he wanted to know.

 

“Dean what’s going on?” Castiel asked him as they were walking hurriedly down the alleyway to peer around the end at the street.

 

“Shh,” Dean whispered back, keeping Castiel out of sight as he slowly peered around the corner. He could see Baby parked on the street where he had left her, and the Keepers standing outside of Chuck’s office. “Okay, you stay here, I’m going to get the car.”

 

“Dean-”

 

“I’ll be right back Cas, I promise.” Dean gently nudged Castiel back before jogging across the street to get to his car. The crowd of people across the street helped him blend in as he casually slid into Baby, running a quick circle around the street before pulling up to the alleyway. Castiel slid into the backseat and then they were speeding back towards the house. “How did they fucking find you already? Jesus-”

 

“Find me?” Castiel asked, clearly confused and lost. “I don’t understand…”

 

“Yeah, me neither,” Dean muttered. “I need to get you to Sam, but I don’t… I mean I don’t want him to get in trouble. Fuck.”

 

“Who is Sam?” Castiel tried to meet Dean’s eyes in the rearview mirror but Dean kept his eyes on the road.

 

“My brother.” At the next light he could take a right and make it to Sam’s, or he could keep going straight and eventually end up at his own house. However, if the Keepers were coming for Castiel already at Chuck’s office, then they were also probably at his house. At the last second, Dean jerked the car to the right, muttering an apology.

 

“Your brother can help?” Castiel asked as he clung to the car’s door.

 

“I hope so,” Dean replied as he slowly pulled into Sam’s neighborhood. His brother lived in a fancy, rich community with other lawyers, doctors, and their families. Sam had always dreamt of having a wife, a golden retriever, and two point five kids. Dean hoped that Sam could still have these things, despite all of what was probably going to be happening after this visit. The extra key was under the potted plant on the porch and Dean practically leapt out of the car to rush up the stairs.

 

“Dean wait-” Castiel called out, practically tripping out of the car to join him.

 

“Come on!” Pulling open the door, Dean grabbed Castiel’s arm and stuffed him inside.

 

“Ow,” Castiel whined.

 

“Sorry. Sam? Sam?” It wasn’t long before Sam appeared at the top of the stairs, his face the picture of confusion and concern.

 

“Dean? What the hell-who is that? Is this Castiel?” he asked as he rushed down the steps.

 

Dean nodded. “Yeah. Yeah it’s Cas-um… We’re in trouble. You got a blacklight?”

 

“Yes? Why?” Sam asked, as Dean began to pull Castiel into the kitchen and dining room area. “Dean? I need more context- _Dean_ -”

 

“Blacklight. Now.” Dean grabbed onto Castiel’s left arm and shoved the gown sleeve up to his shoulder.  The angel squeaked in surprise, but then Sam was digging through a drawer to pull out his blacklight. “Shine it on his arm.”

 

“Dean-” Castiel twisted in Dean’s arms with a tinge of fear in his voice. “Dean stop-”

 

“Cas, shut up,” Dean snapped. When the angel flinched, Dean gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry-I didn’t mean-...Sam?” He raised his eyes up to his brother’s before slowly lowering his gaze to where the UV light began to reveal the tattoo on Castiel’s inner arm. The number made Dean’s blood run cold. “Son of a fucking bitch…”

 

Chuck was right, a single, lonely zero adorned Castiel’s forearm.

 

“He only has one number-” Sam cut off. “ _No_. That’s impossible -- they were destroyed…”

 

“Yeah,” Dean muttered, “that’s what Chuck said. Turn on the news-” He wished he could make more competent and complete sentences, but he was already wandering off to Sam’s living room to turn on the first news channel he could think of. Chuck’s offices were front and center on the station, and the woman reporting was either frightened or excited, Dean couldn’t tell.

 

“What the hell is happening?” Sam asked.

 

“That was the place where I was last night,” Castiel said, staring at the screen in distress. “Dean, what’s happening...Is the doctor-is he alright?”

 

Dean slowly turned to look at a very obviously upset Castiel. “Hey-- hey it’s okay Cas.” He held out his arms and Castiel immediately flocked to stand with him, pressing his face against Dean’s clavicle. Dean slid his arms around Castiel slowly, rubbing the back of his neck in slow circles. “Chuck… Chuck wanted us to get away, okay? He didn’t want to come with us.”

 

“Is he hurt?” Castiel asked, lifting concerned eyes to Dean’s.

 

Dean searched Castiel’s face slowly, running his eyes along the rough stubbled jaw, to the pouty lips, and running up the straight bridge of Castiel’s nose, and finally up to the eyes that made him feel as if he were drowning. Now, he understood what Chuck had meant about the Thirteen feeling concern and having a capacity to understand human emotion; other angels would not have cared about Chuck and the nurses, but Castiel did. There was so much concern and fear in his eyes that it broke Dean’s heart. He had a feeling that they were going to burn the offices to the ground, in hopes of catching whatever they believed was inside.

 

“I don’t know,” he admitted, despite his desire to lie. “I don’t know what will happen to Dr. Shurley, Cas. I’m sorry.” Castiel slowly pressed his face along Dean’s shoulder again and Dean could only continue to rub his back in slow circles. “Sam, we’ve gotta do something.”

                 

“Like _what_ , Dean?” Sam demanded. “I-...I mean...if Cas really is _Zero_ , then… then I don’t know what-I don’t know-” Sam ran his hands through his hair as he fought to stay calm but Dean could see his brother panicking.

 

“Sam, take a breath, okay? We can figure this out. I’m going to make a phone call.”

 

“To who?” Sam cast him a stare that was full of mistrust, which made Dean flinch inwardly. If he couldn’t get Sam to trust his instincts, they wouldn’t be getting very far in this plan.

 

“A friend,” he replied simply before removing his phone with his free hand. Continuing to pet Castiel in gentle circles, Dean dialed Benny Lafitte.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel stared up at the gray sky outside of Dean’s house, where they had been waiting for a Keeper to come and run his numbers. Dean had been worried that they were going to come after his home ,but that had yet to happen. Castiel remembered that the theory was that someone had found out about Castiel, someone who knew that he had been at the hospital, and that someone had made the phone call to the Keepers. But that person had not realized who actually _owned_ Castiel, and had only been able to tell them the angel they were searching for had been at the hospital. No Keepers had come to Dean’s house, at least not yet.

 

Cold air blew Castiel’s hair back, making goosebumps appear all over his body; his wings had been healing, his power slowly rebuilding, and he could now hide the offensive appendages easily without much effort. Dean had even taken him to a store to buy clothing; he had never been allowed to have clothing before. Dean was a good man, a good _human_. Castiel liked Dean.

 

A black car with darkly tinted windows was pulling up the gravel driveway, and when it parked the wind picked up and made Castiel flinch and recoil. He didn’t like that car, it reminded him of the bad things he had suffered before. A Keeper, he only knew him to be a Keeper by his white suit, slid out, and began to approach the porch. Castiel stood immediately and rushed back to the front door  to call for Dean through the screen. Eventually, Dean appeared and slowly stepped out onto the porch, and Castiel watched the blood from his face drain away.

 

The Keeper was here to run the numbers on his arm.

 

Dean stepped around him and made his way down the porch steps to greet the man in his driveway, while Castiel remained behind. Dean’s face, usually friendly, had become a stoic mask. Castiel slowly lowered his eyes to the ground demurely. The Keeper greeted Dean and then there was some conversation that he did not pay heed to, not until Dean snapped his name nastily.

 

“Castiel!”

 

Castiel jerked and looked up at Dean who did not look happy at all. He went to speak but stopped himself before he could regret that decision. Dean was not like other owners,  he was kind, treating him like a person. However, most people were not like Dean; they were cruel. Torture was some disturbing pass time for most of them. Tentative and worried, Castiel made his way down to Dean where he stood next to the Keeper’s car, where the man had a scanning device. “Hold still,” Dean snapped at him coldly before rolling Castiel’s sleeve up and holding his arm out for the man to scan his serial number.

 

Castiel’s eyes fell on the numbers that had been freshly inked into his arm a few nights ago, and they were so alien to him. He had become so used to simply being _Zero_. The new numbers, 89147880, were not ones that Castiel recognized to be _his_. He always been Zero. Just, Zero.

 

“He give you any trouble?” the Keeper asked, as he scanned the machine over Castiel’s numbers.

 

“Nah. I gave him a good lesson for this last time,” Dean replied.

 

The Keeper nodded. “Good. Keeping them in line, is _important_. My name is Alastair.”

 

Castiel did not like Alastair’s voice, it reminded him of slithering snakes. There was an inherent evil to Alastair’s demeanor. Castiel had a feeling that this was not going to go well for him.

 

“Dean. Nice to meet you,” came Dean’s gruff reply.

 

The air stilled. Castiel shuddered as the machine began to make some strange noise, which made Alastair frown and run the machine once again over the tattoo. Again, the noise.

 

“Strange,” Alastair remarked as he walked over to the back of the large SUV and opened up the backend to reveal a computer system. With a few types, Alastair tried to figure out why the scanner was acting up.

 

“What’s strange?” Dean asked and Castiel could hear him try and hide the nervousness.

 

“His numbers won’t run through.” Alastair frowned and gave Castiel a once over. “Machine’s been acting up, probably something wrong with it. I _told_ them it was faulty. I’ll have to run these manually back at headquarters.”

 

Dean nodded and slowly released Castiel’s wrist. “That’s fine,” he replied evenly. “How long will that take?”

 

Alastair shrugged. “A week probably.”

 

Castiel could feel Dean’s body relax next to him; clearly this was good news.

 

“Sure,” Dean replied with a nod. “Sorry for making you come all the way out here.”

 

Alastair shrugged again. “You said he isn’t giving you any more trouble?”

 

“Nope. He’s been well behaved.”

 

“Hm.” Alastair shut the trunk of the car before turning to face them again. “Well, I still need a tour of your,” he glanced around at the muck and mud, “home.”

 

“Right. Right.” Dean nodded and gestured for Alastair to follow him. “Stay here,” Dean snapped at him.

  
Castiel nodded slightly and flinched under the cold glance that he was given by both Dean and Alastair before they disappeared inside. Dean had been worried about this part of the inspection most of the night, and when Castiel had woken up the following morning, he had come to find Dean outside in the backyard, setting up some makeshift shelter. It was only after Dean turned to look at him apologetically that Castiel realized this was Dean trying to pass it off that he could keep an angel outside like a dog. They had not had much of a conversation this morning.

 

Twenty minutes went by, before Alastair and Dean reappeared. Castiel quickly dropped his eyes back to the ground and stood quietly and obediently near the car like he had been told to do.

 

“Well, you say you’ve been watching him?” Alastair drawled as he came to glare at Castiel as if the very presence of the angel offended him.

 

“Yeah. He’s really my brother’s. He lives in Seaside Heights.” Dean smiled proudly and puffed up his chest slightly. “He’s been on vacation and I’m the only one who can handle him… _properly_.”

 

“I see. Well, we’ll have to check that after I run his numbers but everything _seems_ to be alright.” Alastair turned to look at Castiel before smiling and Castiel wanted to crawl inside himself and hide. “But since he seems to be getting away from you, I have a solution for you.”

 

Dean frowned and came to stand closer. “What do you mean?”

 

Yes, what _did_ that mean? Castiel stepped back, prepared to run if he had to. From the look that he was given by Alastair, Castiel had a feeling whatever the plan was, it would not be pleasant.

 

Alastair walked back to the SUV and opened the door to pull out a leather black bag, where he removed two devices. One of them Castiel recognized, and the other he did not. The first instrument were shears; they were used to cut angel feathers. _That_ one he knew well from the wing torture he had been submitted to from his previous owner. He did not want his wings cut again. They were just now starting to heal on their own after he had finished the antibiotics.

 

“What are you gonna do to him?” Dean asked slowly.

 

Alastair smirked and snipped the scissors. “Snip snip, go his pretty feathers. He won’t be flying away too soon from you-”

 

“Oh, that’s fine. Trust me-I cut his feathers already,” Dean replied quickly.

 

The Keeper frowned and snapped his fingers at Castiel. “Show me your feathers,   _now_.”

 

Castiel flinched and fell away from Alastair, back against Dean’s chest. He felt Dean’s hands wrap around his upper arms and for a moment, Castiel felt solace with Dean; no harm could come to him while he was here. So, when Dean gave him a shove and knocked him down to the ground, the air from his lungs was knocked away and Dean tore at the new shirt he had been bought. Ripping fabric made him think of ripping flesh and Castiel screamed preemptively, which made Alastair laugh coldly.

 

“Show your feathers,” Alastair repeated and Castiel flinched when he snipped the shears again. Still, Castiel refused to give in. “He’s not very obedient, is he?” Alastair continued.

 

“No, he’s got a lot of fight in him,” Dean replied.

 

“Oh, he’ll be fun to break.”

 

Castiel tried to look back at Dean, his eyes screaming _why_. He knew that their lives could potentially be in danger, but why did Dean have to be _this_ way? He had believed that Dean was different, and that he would not treat him so cruelly like the others. But he had been _wrong_. Dean was just as cruel as the rest; he was just as nasty.

 

Slowly, Castiel turned his eyes away from Dean’s stoic expression and back to the ground as the heaven’s opened up and rain began to fall cool on his bare back. The atmosphere shimmered and then Castiel’s wings, healing and regrowing on their own, were looking much better than before. Dean told him that he still wanted to take him out to California to see about the surgery, but Castiel had a feeling his wings would heal on their own if they were not tortured daily.

 

His Grace was a powerful healing tool, but the scrape of the shears reminded him of the agony that was soon to follow. He had been conditioned to scream since his other owner had enjoyed how loud and agonized his voice could become;  when Alastair cut the first feather, despite the lack of pain, he screamed anyway. Clipping was not _meant_ to hurt, but most people clipped too high either on accident or on purpose. His last owner had done everything on purpose, so when the shears cut away his feathers, Castiel’s wings shook in fear of the pain.

 

The ground was growing muddy as the rain began to pour heavily. Black feathers collected all around him and he could only choke on his sobs. He had always been so proud of his wings, until he had been subjected to torture for the first time. Ever since, he had had a great disdain for them. They were just ugly, mutated appendages that were too easily damaged.

 

“He has  some of the  ugliest wings I’ve seen on an angel,” Alastair commented, as if he had read Castiel’s mind. “You should get your money back.”

 

Dean shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t mind. I make him hide ‘em most of the time.”

 

As soon as the words left Dean’s mouth, Castiel bit back a real scream. The Keeper had finally began to cut away at the feathers that were not meant to be cut and shorn; hot, sticky blood was dripping down onto his back and then the screaming could not be kept back. The sound, so animalistic and pained, Castiel hardly recognized as coming from him. The cut of the shears tearing through his wings made him cry, and he knew those sounds would begin to haunt his dreams again. When the final feather fell to the ground, and Castiel could no longer hold his wings up, the rain quit. His wings sagged to the ground and that was when he remembered that the Keeper had pulled out a device that he did not recognize.

 

“Is that all?” Dean asked slowly ,but Castiel knew it was not over yet.

 

“Almost,” Alastair replied before showing Dean the other device. “ _This_ is going to be your lifesaver. Newest model and everything.” A cruel smile split Alastair’s face and as he unrolled it, Castiel realized it was a collar.

 

“What is it?” Dean asked just as Alastair knelt to tie it tightly around Castiel’s neck.

 

“Latest collar. It shocks them when they misbheave. You set the voltage but knowing this one’s behavior, this is already programmed.”

 

Castiel stared at the ground, broken and tired. All he wanted to do was curl up on the ground and remember his family; his Father, brothers, and sisters. He wanted to return to Heaven before he and Dean went to California. He wanted to see his family again; they would take care of him. They would stop this cruelty. He did not hear Dean and Alastair talking until a shock ran through his system and made him scream and twitch. Pain sizzled all the way through his skeleton, the aftershocks made his limbs twitch and the hair on his arms to stand up.

 

Alastair’s cruel laughter filled the air soon after.

 

**◆** **◇** **◆** **◇**

 

Dean glanced up from his dinner to where Castiel had been camped out on the couch for the better of the day Once the Keeper Alastair had left, Dean had brought the angel inside, first giving him a gentle bath to wash the blood away, and then he had wrapped Castiel’s wings up with some ace bandages he had in the bathroom. Afterward he had allowed Castiel o crawl under a blanket and sleep the pain off. Guilt had ate him the entire time Castiel had been subjected to torture in his own driveway; he had wanted to take the shears from Alastair’s hands, give them to Castiel, and see what would happen. The bastard deserved to have his limbs shorn off by the angels and creatures he caused suffering.

 

So many apologies had slipped from his lips as he had brought Castiel inside and helped him settle onto the couch to sleep. He had even given him extra pain medication to help manage the agony that Dean could only imagine he had to be in. There had been too many feathers on the ground, and too much blood awash with mud. The rain was yet again coming down hard and pattering on the tin roof, but Dean slowly stood and went to quietly put his plate in the sink, before going to sit in his recliner. The temptation to turn on the TV was outweighed by Castiel’s quiet sleeping form on the couch; he had updated Sam and for now, they were going to lay low. In a few days, they were going to leave and head out to California. Then, Dean had already decided to go to Canada.

 

Benny had told him that he was an idiot, but that he also understood _why_ ; the old vampire had even told him that he’d go with but then he had remembered his deal with Crowley and had backed out. Dean was still determined to get Castiel and Crowley alone in a windowless room together. Dean just hoped it could be before they left the States for good.

 

The chair creaked as Dean shifted around and he cursed himself silently because the noise made Castiel stir. He watched the angel stretch and open his eyes sleepily. “Hey Cas,” he said with a warm smile. God, did he hope that Castiel understood that he had not wanted to cause him bodily harm. “You okay?”

 

Castiel yawned and slowly sat up. His hair a giant mess, Dean smiled affectionately at him. He was stupid cute, Dean realized. However, Castiel did not offer him a reply and instead turned his eyes away and curled up into the corner of the couch instead, trying to make himself smaller. Dean frowned and stood to join him, slowly sinking onto the couch.

 

“Cas? It’s okay. I’m _sorry_ that man hurt you...I didn’t _want_ him to. You understand why it had to be that way, yes? If it’s not, we’ll end up in jail or dead. You get that, don’t you? You want more pain meds? I can give you another I think…” Dean turned to grab the bottle from the coffee table but when he turned back around Castiel stared back at him in clear fear. “...Cas. Please. It’s okay, it’s _okay_. I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

 

Castiel looked away and slowly laid his head on the couch’s arm.

 

Dean reached over and slid his hand along Castiel’s hip, which was the first thing he could grasp. “Buddy, I’m so sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry they messed you up. I’m gonna take you to the doctor-”

 

“I want to go to Heaven,” Castiel replied, his voice dull.

 

Dean paused, taken aback. “What?”

 

“My Father will take care of me. He will not abandon me… He would never abandon His children.”

 

Dean flinched inwardly and swallowed the lump that began to form in his throat; there was no way to _tell_ Castiel that Heaven was not a real, divine place. At least, not to Dean’s knowledge. How could he tell Castiel, a fabricated being whom believed he was indeed an angel, that Heaven was not a place Castiel would want to visit? How to tell him that his family was not _real_? “Cas, we can’t go to Heaven-”

 

“I will not travel with you unless you take me to see my Father first,” came the angel’s stubborn reply. “I wish to see my brothers and sisters.”

 

“Cas, it’s too _dangerous_. Don’t you get it? They want to _kill_ you-”

 

“My Father does not want to _kill_ me!” Castiel snapped. “ _You_ humans want to kill me, but not my Father. He is a just and kind God, He created me and gave me my wings, and life. He would never let me suffer and turn mortal in this way-”

 

“Whoa-turn _what_ , now?” Dean gaped at Castiel as if the angel had grown another head. Turn _mortal_? The angel was turning _mortal_?

 

“Yes,” Castiel whispered. “The more feathers I lose, the more human I become. Once they all fall out...my Grace will fade, and I will be human. Like you. My Father will not allow me to be human; He will restore my wings and Grace. Take me to Heaven, Dean. You claim to be unlike the others, and you say you care about me, then take me home first. And then I will go with you wherever you ask.”

 

Dean stared at Castiel helplessly; taking this angel in particular back to H.E.A.V.E.N. would be difficult to say the least. However, as long as they did it before the week passed and the Keepers returned to collect Castiel after they realized his numbers were a dead serial, it could possibly work out. That did not comfort Dean, nor did it ease the dread that filled his stomach. “Nothing I say will convince you otherwise, will it?”

 

“No,” Castiel snapped.

 

He nodded. “Okay. I’ll take you back home first.”

 

**◆** **◇** **◆** **◇**

 

“You can’t take him to _H.E.A.V.E.N._!” Sam gasped, pulling Dean out of Castiel’s earshot. “That would be suicide-”

 

“I know,” Dean muttered tiredly. “I think I’m going to take him out to California first-”

 

“He’ll know,” Sam pointed out. “And if you take off to California, you’ll never be able to get back here to head up to HQ. There’s no way. You’re going to have to take him, I guess.”

 

Dean glanced back at Castiel sitting in the car, his tired and dead eyes staring out the window. “I can’t get the fucking collar off of him. It shocks him periodically and I have no idea how to get it off.”

 

“You can’t cut it off?” Sam asked.

 

“I don’t know. I’m worried if I try it’ll short circuit and shock both of us.” Dean sighed and ran a hand along his face; he felt as tired as Castiel looked. Everything was falling apart and he wasn’t even sure how to begin to fix it.

 

“Right. Well, we’ll figure it out later. Okay? Let me get my stuff.”

 

Dean flinched and nodded. He did not want to drag Sam into this mess but it was too late now; they were both knee deep in quickly rising water. They were going to have to flee the country before they could even get Castiel out to see the doctor Chuck had told them to go and see.

 

“I’m sorry, Sam,” he apologized when Sam returned with bags packed.

 

“I know, Dean,” Sam replied quietly before joining them in the Impala.

 

Dean sighed before slowly easing himself back into the Impala; he glanced back at Castiel in the backseat before beginning their long drive. The main building was about a three day drive away. He just hoped Castiel slept most of the way there.

 

**◆** **◇** **◆** **◇**

 

“Cas-Cas you gotta hold still-Cas _stop_ -” Dean groaned as Castiel continued to wriggle and move around. He wanted to bash his head into the wall as the angel struggled against him. “Castiel!”

 

Castiel froze, his body twitching and jerking as the collar continued to shock him every now and again. His eyes grew wide, but he finally stilled, ceasing to fight Dean on trying to remove the thing from Castiel’s neck.

 

“ _Thank_ you,” Dean muttered, completely exasperated. Dean gently tilted Castiel’s head back so he could look at the collar further, trying not to nudge it or cause it to shock Castiel as he had done on accident. “I’m sorry I kept bumping it, alright? I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

 

Castiel offered no reply, which had become a part of their relationship lately. The angel hardly opened up his mouth to offer his opinion. Dean sighed and dropped his hands when he still could not figure out how to remove it. The collar was seemingly locked around Castiel’s neck for the rest of his life. Castiel stared back at him, his blue eyes looking lifeless but when Dean looked hard enough, he saw that there was some hope left.The angel still trusted him, even if only a little.

 

“I’m sorry Buddy, I can’t figure out how to remove it.” He threw up his hands in defeat and slowly sat down across from Castiel where they had been parked at a small empty park. Sam was still in the car, asleep in the front seat.

 

“Thank you for trying,” Castiel said quietly.

 

“Yeah, no problem.” Dean slid his hand to lightly run his fingers over Castiel’s. The gesture came so naturally, he had no idea what possessed him to pet Castiel but from the look on the angel’s face he had enjoyed the contact. “You like being petted?” he asked, even as he continued, scratching along his scalp lightly.

 

Castiel slid closer and eagerly leaned into him then; he pressed his head against Dean’s chest and practically purred in content. Dean frowned but he did not stop petting Castiel since he had never seen him so relaxed before. Clearly, this was a definite yes.

 

“You’re kinda weird, you know that?” Dean asked playfully. He slid his other arm around Castiel’s back to run up and down his spine gently. The angel’s wings were not visible today, which he figured had taken a lot out of him. Hiding his wings would probably explain his lethargic behavior. Castiel chirped and Dean blinked. “Did you just… _chirp_?”

 

A blush crept along the angel’s cheeks. “...Yes.”

 

Dean couldn’t help but laugh. “Does that mean you’re happy or what?”

 

Castiel nodded. “It feels nice...being touched... I-I like it.”

 

“Okay.” Dean smiled and dared to press a kiss to the top of Castiel’s head, wrapping his arms around him, holding the angel to his chest. “I want you to be happy.” That was answered by another chirp and Dean chuckled at the noise.

 

“I know you were not trying to hurt me Dean,” Castiel whispered. “I know you would never purposefully hurt me...You saved me, you are not like the others.”

 

“Good. I swear Cas, I would never want to hurt you. Ever. Okay?”

 

Castiel nodded and raised his eyes to meet Dean’s, searching and seemingly innocent. “You are not like other humans, Dean. You love too fiercely to be like the others.”

 

Dean felt his cheeks burn and he stammered. “Um-yeah I guess…”

 

“I have known many cruel owners...you are not like my other owners,” Castiel explained.

 

“I’m not-Cas I don’t _own_ you,” he replied quickly. “I don’t want to own  you-” He cut off when Castiel gave him the saddest look he had ever seen him muster. “What?”

 

“You don’t want to have me as yours?”

 

“No. I don’t mean it like that-I just...I mean...Cas you’re a _person_. I can’t own a person-”

 

“But I’m not,” Castiel replied so assuredly that Dean just stared back him for a moment.

 

He had never seen the angel be so self aware before. “You don’t think you’re a person?” he whispered sadly.

 

“I am an angel. I am not a person. I am not a human. I am an angel.”

 

Dean stammered and ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “Yeah but you look like a person. You act like a person. You talk, you have thoughts, feelings, emotions. You are not an animal and I cannot own you with a clear conscious, Cas. I’m sorry.”

 

Castiel slowly withdrew and scrambled off of the bench to stand and walk back to the car. Dean stared after him and felt his frustration only build; what kind of person could consciously own a thing that was humanoid? Castiel looked like a person, he had thoughts like a person, he had feelings like a _person_. Not an animal. That would hopefully be the first lesson he taught Castiel once this H.E.A.V.E.N. business was over. They were close, only a few more hours left in their drive. Dean sighed because there was no avoiding it now.

 

“Take me to my Father,” Castiel said to him as soon as he slid into the car.

 

“Okay,” he whispered. “Let’s go meet your Father.”

 

**◆** **◇** **◆** **◇**

 

The business front of H.E.A.V.E.N. was always bustling with life and people coming and going; children pulling on their mother’s and father’s hands, pointing out the animal they wanted to take home. Dean and Sam walked in with Castiel slowly, feeling naked and exposed. Dean was fairly certain that they were either going to leave here in handcuffs or bodybags, there was not going to be an in between. A screen near the front of the building stood a man with long, dark blonde hair, going through a loop of information.

 

“Welcome to H.E.A.V.E.N.” came the automated voice.

 

Castiel’s face lit up and he was rushing over before Dean could stop him. “Gabriel,” he greeted excitedly, “Brother!”

 

“Cas! Wait!” Dean cursed. They had not taken into consideration that Castiel’s dive into reality was going to be so damn fast with a holographic representation of his sibling as soon as they slid into the door.

 

“Welcome to H.E.A.V.E.N.” the response came again. “How may I help you?”

 

Dean jogged up to Castiel and touched his shoulder. “Cas-”

 

“Gabriel, it’s me,” Castiel insisted. “It’s Castiel, I’ve come home. Father needs to help me…” The angel reached out to touch his brother but Dean watched in silent agony when his fingers passed through the image that seemed so realistic. “I don’t understand…?”

 

“Cas, you have to know something,” Dean said quietly. “It’s…”

 

“Dean!” Sam called, cutting him off.

 

Dean glanced back at his younger brother and then he noticed the Keepers walking in slowly. They were running out of time quickly. “Cas, H.E.A.V.E.N. isn’t what you think it is, okay? Your Father isn’t real-it’s… none of what you think is real Cas. You weren’t _made_ by God, you were made in a lab--.”

 

Castiel stared back at him in clear confusion, but as he began to look around, taking in the white room with so much glass. “I’m not real,” he said.

 

“No-I mean… I mean you are-but-”

 

The angel’s eyes began to glow, the angel ringing soon following,  and Dean fell back a few steps; he had never seen an angel’s rage before, but he had a feeling he was about to get a front row seat. Sam was grabbing his elbow and pulling him away. He fought Sam at first until he saw a Keeper break through to grab Castiel by the shoulder. The angel spun around and placed his hand on the man’s forehead. Light, brighter than any light Dean could have ever conceived, flooded from Castiel’s palm and the man’s skeleton was in clear view as he died, his dead body still twitching when Castiel released him.

 

The angel spun to face him, his eyes so blue now that Dean could only stammer back at him. “Cas,” he said quickly, even as Sam was dragging him back to the front door. The Keepers were threatening to fire but the ringing was so loud that they were dropping their guns to cover their ears. The glass windows shattered in a burst of shards, and Sam was yanking him down to the ground so they were not ripped to pieces. Sam was saying something to him, but he couldn’t understand.

 

There was blood coming out of his ears; he could feel the hot liquid trickling down the side of his face. People were screaming and running. The entire building was lit with Castiel’s Grace as it reached out in his rage and hurt. Someone was dragging him across the floor and then he and Sam were outside. The sky was gray above his head, and Dean could see some birds flying up ahead. Their black wings fluttered desperately away from the building which was now a war zone.

 

“Dean, Dean we have to go,” Sam kept saying to him. “Dean. Dean!” Sam shook him hard.

 

Dean gasped and finally sat up, staring back at the wreck that Castiel had caused. “They’re gonna kill him Sammy-”

 

“They’re going to kill _us_ unless we go. We have to get out of here. Let’s go!”

 

Dean stared and allowed Sam to stand him up on his feet. They were walking away and Dean swore a silent promise that he would come back to to either avenge or collect his angel.

 

**◆** **◇** **◆** **◇**

 

“You’ve caused a lot of damage to my company.”

 

Castiel stared back at the man who was speaking to him, his body exhausted. His rage had ended when he could no longer gather up any power to wreck what had lied to him all his life.

 

“You killed almost every Keeper who came into your path,” the man continued. He did not sound angry, in fact, he sounded amused. “It’s you isn’t it?” The man smiled so cruelly that it made Castiel squirm. “Zero… you found your way home.”

 

Castiel’s eyes narrowed. “My name is Castiel-”

 

The man laughed. “Did your human give you that name?” Castiel watched as the man smirked and turned to face some others in white coats. “Reprogram him, and whoever he came in with, erase them from his mind.”

 

Castiel cried out. “No!” They were going to take Dean away from him. “No-”

 

The cruel look the man cast him as he walked away made Castiel’s blood run cold. “And if he fights you, clip him again.”

 

“Yes, Sir.”

  
Castiel screamed.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Reprogramming Started: _file number 0_

Code: _restart_

Error.

 

Code: _restart_

Error.

 

Code: _reboot_

Error.

 

Code: _force restart_

Error.

 

Code: _force reboot_.

 

Reprogramming Ended.

Complete? N

 

Notes: _Error message: wnchstr-rightusmn_.

 

“He won’t restart.”

 

Dick frowned and ran his fingers along his mouth as he stood above the scientists who had been trying in vain to restart Castiel’s brain. “They can all be restarted. You’re not trying hard enough.”

 

“Sir, we’ve tried all of the codes. It won’t take them. We keep getting the same error message.”

 

“What message?” he asked slowly.

 

“I don’t know. It’s bizarre. We’ve never seen it before.”

 

“What _is_ the message?” he repeated. “Don’t make me ask again.” Dick glanced over as Kevin showed him the notes they had been taking. He frowned and his eyes narrowed down at Castiel. “Go into his memories. Reprogram this Winchester to be his enemy if you cannot erase him. Make it so when Castiel sees him, he will terminate him on sight.”

 

“Yes, Sir.”

 

Dick nodded and smiled slightly. “ _Love_. What a fickle emotion. Take that away from him too.”

 

“Sir?”

 

“Just _do_ it,” Dick snarled before turning to leave the room behind. “Don’t disappoint me again.”

 

“Yes, Sir.”

  
  


**◆** **◇** **◆** **◇**

 

“So how long until they find us?”

 

Dean continued to stare at his beer, which he had not even bothered removing the cap from. He could feel Sam’s eyes on him, demanding and questioning. The truth was that Dean had no idea how long it would take the Keepers to find them, to take them in and question them as to how they came across the angel they had been trying to find for God only knew how long. The truth was that Dean wanted to get Sam out of the States as fast as possible, because his little brother did not deserve to pay for Dean’s sins.

 

“I don’t know,” he said after the silence had gone on for a few minutes. “I’ve got no fucking clue, Sam. It could be today, tomorrow, next month. Next year. So that’s why you’re gonna get your ass to Canada.”

 

“I’m not going anywhere Dean. I won’t leave you here to the wolves!” Sam insisted.

 

Dean slammed his fist down on the table, making Sam jump. “You will get your ass out of here Sam… I will not have you die because of what I did, okay? Get the hell out of dodge _now_.”

 

Sam frowned and shook his head. “I think you keep forgetting that I’m an adult and I can make my own damn decisions, Dean.”

 

“And I think you keep forgetting that you’re my responsibility!” he roared back at him, which made the patrons of the bar pause in their comings and goings to stare. Dean flinched and lowered his voice, leaning across the table. “Sam, I want you to get out of here.”

 

“No,” came Sam’s stubborn reply and Dean rolled his eyes, finally twisting the cap off of his beer.

 

“Stubborn,” he growled. The taste of the beer calmed him, but Dean knew he was going to need something stronger to forget everything.

 

“Damn right,” Sam replied with a smile. “I won’t feed you to the wolves Dean, I just won’t.”

 

Dean sighed and nodded. “Fine. Your funeral.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and they sat together, drinking their beers before leaving enough money on the table to cover them, and then they were on the road again. Dean liked driving, but he ended up allowing Sam to drive instead. Sleep had evaded him for days and it was time to get some shut eye. The only problem was that Castiel had been in his nightmares, and he could not shake the panic he felt every time his eyes opened. The idea that Castiel could be suffering somewhere was agonizing, the idea had come to permeate his dream world.

 

He dreamt of Castiel dying, burning, drowning, being flayed alive. Sam had chided him about watching too many horror movies as a kid, and maybe he had, but that did not change the fact that his mind kept coming up with one hundred different ways Castiel could die. He had tried different remedies to ease the nightmares away, but none of them had worked. The worst moment had been when Castiel had turned his eyes on _him_ with rage; Castiel had told him that he did not believe Dean would ever hurt him. But he had.

 

He had hurt Castiel by showing him the truth.

And he had probably caused Castiel’s death in the same breath.

  
If he had only taken Castiel to California instead; if he had simply refused to take him to H.E.A.V.E.N, but he hadn’t, and now they were paying the consequences. The drive was quiet, bless Sam’s heart, but sleep never came to him. They drove all the way to morning and Dean finally sat up when they rolled into a small town. Rubbing the junk from his eyes, Dean yawned and stretched, “We need gas?”

 

“Yeah,” Sam said as he checked the meter.

 

“Cool. I gotta piss anyway.”

 

“You sleep?” Sam asked.

 

Dean snorted. “What do you think?” he asked with a bitter laugh.

 

“I’m sorry Dean.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Just pull into that station right there.” Dean pointed. “Fill her up for me?” When Sam nodded, Dean slid out to head inside so he could grab an energy drink, or five, and use the restroom. The gas station was mostly empty since it was barely eight in the morning but the clerk was friendly enough, even when he laid coffee, energy drinks, and protein bars on the counter, and enough cash to pay for the gas they were using.

 

“Have a good day,” she told him with a smile, and he nodded back.

 

“You too,” he responded to be polite. The bag was heavy in his hands as he walked back towards the car. Half way there, another black truck was rolling up next to the Impala where Sam was finishing up. Dean froze mid step when the truck blocked his view of what was happening. Dean rolled his eyes and went to step around the beast, when a distinct sound reverberated around the parking lot.

 

_“Just a little higher Dean-that’s it. Steady. Now you’re going to get a kickback on it, I got you. Alright?” John had reassured him._

 

_“Can I shoot now Dad?” he had asked excitedly._

 

_“Now.”_

 

_The trigger was pulled and the sound broke through the silence, scattering birds all around. Even though his ears had been covered, they were still ringing and the pain in his shoulder had been completely worth it._

 

“Sam?!” Dean screamed as he remembered the sound a gun made when it went off. “Sam!”

 

Men in black suits were coming around the truck at him and Dean dropped the bag he had been carrying, still screaming Sam’s name. The men had him by the arms and despite the fight he put up, they were stuffing him in the truck. Cursing, biting, and kicking did nothing, especially when one of them slammed his head up against the glass of the window so hard his vision swam. Dean’s eyes fell on Sam’s body, which was lying on the ground. He had no idea if Sam was alive or dead, but he screamed his brother’s name anyway, pounding on the window.

 

The truck was driving away and there was no one to witness this happenstance; except for the clerk inside the gas station, and Dean was certain whoever these people were they would take care of her too. The tears that were falling down his face made his vision swim even more but he couldn’t move; they had pinned him down. “Who the fuck are you, you sons of bitches. Swear to Christ, when I get outta here I’m going to take you all down for killing my brother-”

 

Saying the words out loud made it real and he couldn’t finish the sentence.

 

Sam was dead.

 

_Sam was dead_.

 

The men did not offer up any reply. After some time of being pressed against the door, he was being yanked back outside and handcuffed when they finally came to a stop. Dean glared at all of them, his lip bleeding, and his nose stuffed from the crying he had done. The left side of his face felt swollen and his head still hurt from where he had been slammed into the truck’s window. The men pushed and pulled him along to a limo, which was sitting in an abandoned parking lot in the middle of godforsaken nowhere.

 

Twenty feet they stopped him and held him still. Dean watched as the limo door was opened by another man in a black suit, and then a handsome man, who had to have been in his mid thirties, exited. He straightened his suit jacket and then a smile crawled across his face as he walked up to them.

 

“Hello, Dean Winchester,” the stranger greeted. He was well groomed and all smiles. Dean hated him.

 

“Fuck you,” he spat coldly.

 

The man laughed. “Feisty. Oh, he’ll be fun to break. Now, Mr. Winchester, I assume you are wondering who we are and why we have you here? Well, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Dick Roman. I’m the CEO of the Humane Evolution and Viral Eugenics Network. It is a _pleasure_ to meet you.”

 

“You’re the asshat who sells angels for fun?” Dean snarled. “Well, you’re first on my shit list as soon as I get outta these cuffs.”

 

“Hm, I see. And why is that?”

 

“Your boys here shot my brother,” Dean snapped. “They’ll be nex,t but since I assume you’re the one who called it, I’ll take you first. It’ll be fun gouging your eyes out and pulling your balls up through your throat.”

 

Dick sighed and ran a hand over his face. “I _told_ you I wanted both Winchesters _alive_. Not just one. I wanted the _set_ … My _apologies_ about your brother, Mr. Winchester. That was not meant to happen.”

 

“You think that’s gonna make me like you, _Dick_? Because as far as I’m concerned you knew _exactly_ what your boys here were doing and are just trying to cover your own ass. Sam is dead and someone is gonna go down because of it. May as well be you.” Dean’s voice wavered only for a moment and then he regained control of his emotions. He could not show them weakness or how he just wanted to collapse onto the ground and sob over what they had done to Sam.

 

“Which of you shot the other Winchester?” Dick asked tiredly. “Speak up now, or it’ll be worse for you later.” When a man stepped forward, Dick pulled a gun out from his coat. Dean frowned and watched Dick aim the gun at the man and he shot him point blank between the eyes. Dean flinched at the sound and even though he wanted to glance at the man’s body as he fell, he kept cold eyes on Roman instead. He was going to commit his face to memory and he was going to kill him and avenge Sam’s death. This bastard had taken Castiel from him and now Sam? He was going to die a very violent and painful death. “There,” Dick said calmly. “Now. Bring him.”

 

Dean frowned and struggled as the men walked him up to the limo and shoved him inside to sit across from Dick in between two of the guards. “What do you want from me?!”

 

“We’re performing a test today,” Dick replied with a smile as he settled back into the limo. “And we’re going to see if you pass.”

 

“What test? What the hell are you talking about-”

 

“Shut him up.”

 

Dean opened his mouth to speak again, but one of the Keepers shoved a syringe into his neck and then darkness was claiming him before he could continue yelling.

 

**◆** **◇** **◆** **◇**

 

“Ah, welcome to the land of the living Mr. Winchester.”

 

Dean groaned and slowly lifted his head up from where it had been lolling around uselessly; his neck hurt so badly he wanted to never move it again. His breath hitched when his eyes adjusted to the bright white room. He realized soon that he was chained to a chair, which was bolted to the floor. “Where am I?” he asked tiredly.

 

“H.E.A.V.E.N.” Dick replied smoothly. “But it’s about to turn into _hell_ , Mr. Winchester. At least for you.” Dick smiled his cruel smile as he pressed a button on an intercom. “Bring him in.”

 

“Yes, Sir.”

 

Dick smiled and bowed slightly. “I hope you have _fun_ Mr. Winchester.”

 

Dean watched Dick go with narrowed eyes. Once Dick left, Dean began to struggle and wriggle in the chains; they jingled and clanked together, but he couldn’t get a hand or arm free. The chair would have fallen over if it had not been bolted to the floor, based on all of the noise he was making, but then the door opened. Dean froze. His heart slammed into his chest out of rhythm for a few beats, and he could only stare in shock with who was in the room with him.

 

“Cas,” he let out in a breath. He had to blink several times to make sure the angel did not just disappear. No, Castiel really was standing in the room with him, and he didn’t look happy.

 

“Hello Dean,” Castiel greeted, his voice ice cold and low.

 

“I thought… I thought you were _dead_ ,” Dean gasped in shock. “You-” The sound of the table crashing was what made Dean flinch, rather than the sight of Castiel throwing it across the room. The movement happened so fast that Dean could not track it with his eyes. “Cas, what are you-”

 

The angel hit him across the face so hard that Dean could hear his ears ringing.

 

“Okay _ow_ ,” he groaned. “Cas, it’s me. It’s _Dean_.”

 

Castiel glared down at him, his face a mask of anger with no emotion in his eyes as he brought his fist back down on Dean’s face again. Castiel hit him once, twice, three times, and Dean was starting to see spots in his vision. “Cas- _stop_ -Cas it’s me. It’s _Dean_. It’s Dean-it’s _your_ Dean, Cas. This isn’t you Cas, stop-”

 

Castiel gripped the front of his shirt and punched him again, knocking Dean’s head on the back of the chair. Dean groaned as he felt his head spin and his vision swam. The entire room felt as if he it were spinning; if Castiel hit him again, he was going to pass out. “Cas, please...Cas it’s _me_. I saved you Cas-I saved you. Remember? I’m not like those assholes Cas. I wouldn’t hurt you, I would never...Cas _please_.” He stared up at Castiel in desperation. “Please don’t do this. You can fight whatever they did to you Cas.”

 

The angel paused, his hand raised to strike again, but Dean saw him tilt his head in almost recognition. He wanted to weep in joy when there was more hesitation.

 

“Cas, please. We’re family. I-I consider you family. I want to take care of you Cas. Please… don’t do this. _Please_. I lost Sammy, and I thought I’d lost you… don’t-... Don’t let me lose you too, not to these flying asshats.”

 

There was more hesitation and then Dick Roman’s voice came on the intercom, “Destroy him, Zero. Kill him.”

 

Castiel poised to strike again and Dean flinched immediately, calling Castiel’s name desperately. When Castiel’s hand came down on him, it was not to finish him off; the angel reached and lightly touched his forehead and Dean gasped as he felt his flesh stitch back together. Dick was snapping something over the intercom, but Castiel ignored him. The room lit up slowly, the ringing filling the air, and Dean cried out in pain. Something snapped the chains that held him and then the room spun and his vision went black.

 

“Cas-” Dean groaned, but then he was hitting the ground and throwing up. The sounds of birds filled his ears and for a moment Dean began to wonder if somehow he was hallucinating. Retching and dry heaving, his vision slowly returned and the smell of nature struck him hard. Dean slowly came back to reality and looked around. Castiel was standing away from him, watching with uncertainty. Dean wiped his mouth and stood up slowly, using a tree to help his movements. They were in a forest. A fucking forest. “Cas, where are we? How did we get here?”

 

Castiel licked his lips and gave him a nervous glance. “When I touched you, you were thinking. So I took us here. It’s where your mind wanted us to go,” Castiel replied quietly.

 

Dean could practically feel his own eyebrows fly up into his hairline. “You-you _what_ now?”

 

“I took us here. I do not know where here is, I just know you were thinking it.” Castiel shrugged helplessly and began to look around. “If you give me a moment I can tell you where we are.”

 

Dean blinked. “I-... I was thinking about Canada. You brought us to _Canada_? Wait-are your wings...?”

 

“Better?” Castiel smiled excitedly and then Dean was able to view his wings in all of their splendour. The angel’s wings stretched out between the trees, a black mass of feathers. The energy crackled in the air and Dean felt the hairs on his arms stand up on end.

 

“Holy shit,” he whispered. They were beautiful. “Cas, they’re gorgeous.”

 

The angel blushed and drew them in close to his body. For a moment, Dean was able to forget about Sam; he was able to forget about what had just happened to him and how his life had turned upside down so drastically. He could forget about everything. For just a moment, Dean existed with Castiel in the middle of the Canadian wilderness and that was all. But the moment did not last long, and the memory of Sam lying in the gas station’s parking lot came flooding back with such intensity that he gasped. How were they standing here? Castiel had fought whatever they had done to him and now they were in Canada. But Sam was still lying in a parking lot. He couldn’t let his little brother’s body be found in a parking lot.

 

“Cas… Sam-...” the waver in his voice made him take pause and collect his bearings. “Sam is dead. And I don’t want him lying in a fucking dirty gas station parking lot. I need you to get him.”

 

Castiel’s eyes widened. “Where?”

 

“I-I don’t know. Some small town. They picked me up there-”

 

Castiel took two strides and lightly touched Dean on the forehead again and then with the sound of rustling wings, Castiel was gone. Dean took a gasp of air and looked around at the forest which was alive with life; the sun was shining and everything seemed so peaceful. The day did not reflect the storm he felt inside; with Castiel gone, Dean collapsed to the ground and finally let out a screamed sob. His ears began to ring again but this time, Dean knew it was not because of Castiel’s Grace.

 

Taking a breath became comically difficult as he struggled to gasp on air; he was practically choking on oxygen. The edges of his vision were turning black again and Dean could only lie on the ground and breathe in the bits of dirt and grass his mouth hovered over. He was going to pass out.

 

Wings.

 

“Dean.”

 

The angel’s hand came to rest on his shoulder and Dean was afraid to look. If he looked then it would be too real.

 

“Dean,” Castiel repeated.

 

“What,” he managed to say quietly.

 

“I found him.”

 

Dean gulped and nodded. He had to face this. He had to face this and he’d bury Sam with his bare hands if he had to. Sitting up slowly, Dean finally turned to look at where Castiel was pointing. Shock filled him all the way to the core and he could only stare, and then glance over at Castiel in wonder. “What did you-Sam? Sammy!”

 

Sam was sitting up against a tree, his face looking tired but there was a small smile on his lips. “Hey, Dean.”

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

_Mechanical sounds of beeping and monitors were the first sounds that he heard when he returned to the world of the conscious living. As Castiel took in his surroundings, he forgot for a moment what had brought him to this place to begin with. It was not until his eyes adjusted to the brightness of the room, and he took in the sight of the men and women in lab coats standing around him that he_ remembered _. He had come to Heaven at his own request._

 

_Only a few moments inside its gates, and Castiel had come face to face with his own horrifying reality: he was not real. He had never_ been _real; he was designed in a petri dish, in a lab much like the one he was in now. The anger he had felt before returned and Castiel prepared himself to attack the humans who had caused him this agony. His family was not real, God had not made him out of His own image. None of his memories were real memories; they were all fake. He hated them and he wanted them all to suffer._

 

_“Sir, he’s waking up.”_

 

_“Ah, Castiel. Good morning.”_

 

_Castiel trailed his eyes up and up to a man who he could only describe as cruel; he had a cold smile on his face and he stood high above the others behind glass in a separate room. He was too afraid to join his army of scientists. This had to be the man who had believed he could play God and make His creatures. Castiel did not bother himself with replying._

 

_“They’ve been trying to reset you for a few hours now, but this_ Winchester _has been preventing you from rebooting, but that’s alright. We’re going to try something else,” the man continued cheerfully. “We’re going to reset you a different way. I’m quite excited to see how it goes. You may give him the medication.”_

 

_Castiel tore his eyes from the stranger to a woman in a white coat, who was approaching him, and in her hand was a large syringe full of liquid. His eyes widened and he glanced up at the stranger in alarm, but the man’s smile only grew in cruelty. Castiel screamed when they injected him in the neck with the syringe, and he tried to call his Grace to his hands and body, but nothing happened. He tried several times in a row, and it was as if his Grace were on mute; he could not reach it and call it for his use._

 

_“Oh, that’s a precautionary measure,” the man said to him, as if he had read Castiel’s mind. “We put your Grace on… ice, so to speak. To keep you from attacking again. Once you’ve calmed down, it will be restored to you.”_

 

_Castiel’s eyes narrowed and he could only glare up at the man. When the time came, Castiel would take him down first._

 

**◆** **◇** **◆** **◇**

 

“Sam. Sam-I-how-” Dean cupped his brother’s face in his hands, staring in disbelief. “I saw you, you were dead-”

 

Sam smiled slightly and glanced over Dean’s shoulder before flicking his eyes back to his brother’s, “Cas.”

 

Dean slowly turned around to look at the angel, who had moved away from their earshot to give them some privacy. He stared at Castiel for a while before turning to look at Sam again. Overwhelmed with too many different emotions, Dean wrapped his arms around Sam’s shoulders and pulled him close. “You son of a bitch,” he sobbed. “Don’t you scare me like that again, you got it?”

 

Sam sighed a small laugh, “Yeah Dean. No problem. I’ll make sure to ask the guys with the guns to not shoot me in the head next time.”

 

Dean blinked tears from his eyes and pressed a kiss to Sam’s temple. “Shut up.”

 

Sam laughed more, even as he flinched from the pain the gesture caused. “Where are we, anyway?”

 

“Cas said we’re in Canada.”

 

“You’re kidding… Well fuck-you do realize your car is still… ?”

 

“Don’t remind me,” Dean growled. He had too many other problems to worry on than to think on Baby still  being at that gas station. Dean heaved a sigh and slowly stood, offering Sam his hand. “You feeling okay?”

 

Sam accepted his hand and nodded. “Yeah, believe it or not. I feel fine.”

 

“Good,” Dean replied, “because I got a feeling we’re gonna be doing a lot of walking.”

 

“To where?” Sam asked.

 

“That sanctuary that’s up here,” Dean slid Sam’s arm over his shoulders to help him walk, even as Sam protested and claimed he was just fine. Dean didn’t care; he was not going to take any more chances. “Cas! Come on, let’s get going.”

 

The angel jerked and walked over to them, his head tilting. “Go where?”

 

“We gotta start looking for that sanctuary. Remember?” Dean prompted.

 

“Oh. Yes.” Castiel nodded. “Why must we walk?”

 

“Because we don’t know where it is. Unless _you_ know where it is? Can you poof us over there or somethin’?”

 

“God, I hope so,” Sam muttered. “I want to sleep for the next week straight.”

 

Dean snorted, “Me and you both, man.”

 

“Just a moment.” Castiel’s wings rustled and then the angel was gone.

 

“His wings are pretty sick,” Dean commented after Castiel had left. “He showed me-” Dean cut off when Castiel reappeared and latched onto his arm and Sam’s. In a blink, they had come to stand in front of a large log cabin. The world spun and Dean almost fell over, but with Sam’s and Castiel’s help, he was able to stay upright, even though he felt like vomiting. “Ugh… warn me next time Cas-”

 

“My apologies, Dean.”

 

“Is this it?” he asked slowly.

 

“Yes,” the angel replied with serious certainty.

 

“Awesome,” he whispered. “Let’s go introduce ourselves then.”

 

Still keeping a grip on Sam, Dean trudged toward the front porch, and up to the door to ring the bell. It seemed so strange to have a supernatural creature sanctuary appear to be so _normal_. Hell, they were ringing a doorbell and everything, it was almost too surreal. He just hoped someone was home and would let them in. He wasn’t even sure how this place worked. He wasn’t sure if they had the right place, Castiel could have been wrong. However, when the door opened Dean blinked and stammered at who stood in its place.

 

“Doctor!” Castiel immediately spat out excitedly.

 

Chuck Shurley stared at them a moment and then he was smiling. “Castiel… Mr. Winchester. Hello.”

 

“How-you-... You’re alive?” Dean stared in shock at the man he had been fairly convinced had died the day of the fire. Chuck was most certainly not dead, and Dean had to admit that he was happy about that. The guy hadn’t deserved to die because of them.

 

Chuck nodded. “Managed to get out. I never thought I’d see you again though. But I’m glad I have. Come in.”  He stepped aside and then they were crossing the threshold to what felt like true safety. Dean had not felt so relaxed  since before he had picked up Castiel from the streets. “It’s good to see you all. Castiel, I see your wings are much improved. That’s wonderful.”

 

Castiel smiled and pulled his wings in closer to his body, his cheeks flushing pink. “Thank you.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes a little. “You got a place we could sit? It’s been a rough… however long it’s been. I don’t even remember anymore.”

 

“Oh. Yes, yes. Come this way.” Chuck gestured at them to follow, and Sam had finally pulled free of Dean despite his protests. “Hungry?”

 

“Starved,” Dean replied as Sam batted him off again. Eventually, Dean gave up on helping Sam walk and shoved his hands in his pockets instead.

 

“Good, we were about to make lunch.”

 

“So um… Where is everyone?” Dean asked slowly as they walked down a hallway to a sitting room. The couch looked so inviting that he had to stop himself from just falling face first into the cushions.

 

“Oh, well it’s before lunch, everyone is usually outside at this hour. It’s a good time to enjoy the weather,” Chuck replied as he gestured for them to sit. “I’m glad you could make it here. It’s wonderful to see you all well.”

 

Dean snorted. “Yeah… well, _well,_ is a matter of perspective at this point.”

 

“Yes… I suppose that is true, but you are all safe here, which is good. Castiel, you may sit-”

 

Castiel was standing by the back door, his head tilted to the side in confusion as if he was not sure whatever he was looking at were real. “Gabriel,” he whispered, his hand going to press against the glass.

 

Dean frowned. “Cas, c’mon over here and sit-”

 

“Gabriel!” Castiel called, this time slapping the glass and hitting it a few times, clearly trying to gain his brother’s attention. “Please, let me out.”

 

Chuck stood, hurrying over to Castiel’s side, reaching around the angel to pull the glass door open. Dean and Sam were quick to follow, both of them immediately worried that Castiel was mistaken yet again. But the angel was running over to another angel, his hair golden and to his shoulders, his face a surprised mask as well. Dean watched Castiel wrap his arms around Gabriel in a tight hug, which he had never seen the angel do; he was surprised that Cas even knew what a hug was.

 

“Who is that?” Dean asked Chuck quietly.

 

“Gabriel.”

 

“Is he one of… the Thirteen?” he continued, watching the reunion with caution.

 

Chuck nodded. “Yes,” he said. “He’s number Three, I believe.”

 

“Cas was first?”

 

“Actually, I believe Castiel was _last_. He’s still a bit different from the others, I believe they were going to make even more models after Castiel was created, but they never did of course,” Chuck said quietly. “But I can’t be sure, none of us can, really.”

 

“You said they were destroyed.”

 

“Of course I did,” Chuck hissed. “Do you think I was going to give away the angel's whereabouts? Even to you or Castiel? That would have been idiotic. Some of them were successfully destroyed. So far, Numbers Three, Four, Six, and Zero are the only ones left out of the Thirteen alive as far as I know.”

 

“Who are the others?” Sam asked.

 

“Gabriel, Balthazar, and Anna are the ones left, and Castiel of course.”

 

Dean nodded slowly, turning his gaze back on Castiel and Gabriel. Both angels were showing off their wings. Castiel’s were still beautiful and wondrous; smooth, black, and in the right light they shimmered blue. Gabriel’s wings were larger and more grandiose, shining golden in the light. They were both impressive specimens, and with the way Gabriel smiled, Dean could see how they were not like the rest of their robotic brethren.

 

“Oh, I would beware Gabriel just a tad,” Chuck warned before turning to go back inside.

 

“Why?” the brothers asked in unison.

 

“He loves to play tricks.” Chuck gave them winks and then he was leaving them to stand on the back patio alone.

 

“Of course he does,” Dean growled. “C’mon Sammy, let’s go eat and then take a fucking nap for the next three years.”

 

Sam smiled and nodded. “Yeah, sounds good Dean.”

 

**◆** **◇** **◆** **◇**

 

“Hey, where’s Cas?” Dean asked Chuck, finally finding the man outside gardening. He had searched all over for the angel, but so far his search had been in vain. Ever since they had arrived, Castiel had been disappearing for hours at a time, and Dean was starting to worry.

 

“I am not sure,” Chuck said, wiping his hands clean of some dirt. “Have you finished fixing the windows upstairs?”

 

“Huh? Oh yeah, yeah I got ‘em fixed for ya,” Dean replied, his eyes scanning the back gardens. The trees were dense and he began to wonder if Castiel had walked back into the woods.

 

They had been staying at the Sanctuary for a few weeks now, and slowly Sam and Dean had started to lend a helping hand. Sam took time out of his day to teach the angels human customs, and he also assisted Chuck in the medical ward as best he could. Dean spent his days fixing things up; he had just fixed several of the leaking windows on the second floor, and then he was planning on taking a look at the garbage disposal, but first, he wanted to find Castiel. It wasn’t like him to go wandering off by himself.

 

“You could try the woods, he tends to take walks back there,” Chuck offered.

 

“Yeah, thanks,” Dean muttered before stepping around the smaller man to jog back to the trees. Once he felt as if he were far enough from the house, Dean started to call Castiel’s name, hoping the angel would hear him. “Cas? …Cas!”

 

The birds went silent, as if he had disturbed them enough to silence them. The sudden quiet was unnerving, and Dean picked up his pace to hurry down the path he was following. The birds continued to be silent, compared to their usual chatter, and Dean felt a chill run down his spine. Was Castiel hurt? Had something horrible happened to the angel? Up ahead there was a large boulder, in the middle of the forest, covered in moss, and on top of the rock, Castiel was sitting, crossed legged and silent. As if he were meditating.

 

“Cas?” he called, his voice sounding comically loud in the silence.

 

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said solemnly, his eyes shut.

 

Dean slowly walked around and looked at him, his concern feeling more real now that he was looking at Castiel, which didn’t feel right. He should have felt _better_ , not worse. “What’s wrong, buddy? Why are you out here?”

 

“I have been seeking Revelation,” Castiel replied.

 

“What’s that?”

 

“Much like Nirvana… It is a calm, a stillness that angels can reach and feel. My thoughts have been too loud lately… too dismal.”

 

“What? Why?” Dean tilted his head. Why was Castiel having _dismal_ thoughts? He was safe now; far away from the grasp of Dick Roman and H.E.A.V.E.N. He should have felt relieved, not worse. “What’s wrong, Cas?”

 

 

“Tell me, Dean, how would you feel if you were told that you are not _real_. That your life, your existence, your being, your _everything_ was created in a petri dish by mad men? How would you _feel_?” Castiel looked over at him, and the usual kind, and beautiful eyes, were stormy and dark. Castiel was angry, and Dean couldn’t blame him. If he had found out that his entire life was a lie, he would have been pretty pissed too.

 

“Okay… well, yeah, I’d be pretty mad,” he admitted slowly. “But, Cas, just because you thought you were one thing, doesn’t make you not _real_. You’re real, just as real as me!” Dean reached over to touch Castiel’s leg. “You can feel me, I can feel you, you are _real_. Okay? You are just as real as everything else in the world. Don’t think you don’t matter just because you weren’t made via God or whatever.”

 

Castiel’s eyes filled with sadness and he looked away slowly. “You cannot understand my sadness, Dean. You are very much real, and you were made with good intentions. I was made for fun… I was not made to be loved or appreciated. You are real, and I am a fabrication.”

 

“Cas,” Dean lamented. “You are _real_ , and you _matter_.” He walked around to stand in front of the rock, so he could look Castiel in the eye. “You matter to me, Cas. You matter to Sam, to Chuck, and to your brothers and sisters that are here. You matter to _us_. Please, do not think that you are not important. You _are_ important. You are so important.” The last bit came out as a desperate whisper; he _needed_ Castiel to realize how important he truly was to him. He had a deep caring and loving of Castiel; he had grown attached to the angel, and he was ecstatic to know that they were safe from harm now. The only enemy they had here was Castiel’s mind.

 

There were tears, shining like stars in Castiel’s eyes. “You mean those things,” he said, as if in surprise.

 

“I do,” Dean assured him, reaching over to take Castiel’s hands in both of his. “I do mean them.”

 

“I will try to remember,” the angel promised quietly. “I will try and move on.”

 

He nodded. “I’ll help you,” he promised, and he leaned forward to kiss Castiel very lightly along the cheek. Soon, the angel’s tears began to fall like falling stars, so Dean made silent wishes on them, and prayed that Castiel would be able to feel whole and loved again soon.

 

**◆** **◇** **◆** **◇**

 

The blankets were warm and the room was still mostly dark, even as the sun was starting to slowly come up. Dean guessed that it was probably a little after six in the morning. He went to roll over but then frowned when he felt something heavy and warm pressing against him. “The hell,” he muttered, trying to twist and look. Castiel was lying next to him, and it took Dea a moment to realize that one of Castiel’s wings gently draped over his body, which explained why he was so warm and snuggly; it wasn’t just the thin blanket keeping him warm, but also Castiel’s feathers.

 

“Cas,” he said, trying to wake the angel up a bit. Since when did Castiel need to sleep? “Cas, wake up.”

 

The angel’s eyes flew open, bright blue and vibrant. “Dean,” he greeted warmly.

 

“Hey Cas… um...Could you move over just a bit? I wanna roll over.” He wanted to tell Castiel to get up and leave the bed completely, but he also didn’t want to upset the angel or hurt his feelings.

 

Castiel nodded and shifted slightly, lifting the heavy black wing, so Dean could could roll over and press his face back into the pillows once again. The heavy weight returned and Dean had to admit, he found some comfort in Castiel’s wing draped over him. It felt warm and cozy; almost like home. Castiel wriggled and then he was nuzzling Dean, and making some strange noise. Almost like… _purring_.

 

“Cas?”

 

“Yes, Dean?”

 

“What are you doing?” he asked slowly. “You’re… purring.”

 

Castiel’s cheeks turned a pretty pink and he ducked his head in slight shame. “I am very happy here.”

 

He nodded. “That’s good, Cas,” he whispered. “Go back to sleep.” Dean shut his eyes and tried to get comfortable, but Castiel kept on making that rumbling noise. While he was glad that the angel was happy, he wasn’t sure how to feel about the angel being so content he was purring. In vain, Dean tried to return to sleep, but he ended up wriggling out from under the feathers and blankets, so he could go to the bathroom. Castiel remained in the bedroom, and Dean stumbled down the hall to take a piss in the dark, before going back down the hall, and slowly down the stairs.

 

He could hear Chuck talking to someone, so Dean blearily walked towards the voices, until he winded up in the kitchen. Sam was sitting at the table already, and Gabriel was smiling at him as if he found Sam to be the most fascinating person in the entire universe. Dean ignored them and went to search for coffee instead.

 

“Ah, good morning Dean,” Chuck said. “How are you?”

 

“Cas was purring, what the fuck is that about?” he asked grumpily. He really needed coffee.

 

“Castiel has taken a shine to you,” Chuck replied, as if it were normal for angels to purr. “He is programmed to be a human’s pet and companion Dean. He needs to be treated with affection and kindness. Love, devotion, all of those things. He views you as his Master.”

 

Dean had finally just taken a drink of coffee and immediately he choked and sputtered. Both Gabriel and Sam turned to look at him in concern, but Dean ignored them, and stared at Chuck as if he had lost his mind. “I’m sorry, _what_ now?”

 

“You are Castiel’s _owner_ , that is how he views you… he will love and protect you until he dies. The least you can do is show him the same devotion,” Chuck said offhandedly.

 

“You must be joking,” he said, finally looking at Sam. “Right?” Sam shrugged helplessly and Dean turned to face Chuck again, who was putting some eggs on a plate. “Right?”

 

“Do you not care for Castiel?” Chuck asked him.

 

“I do… I do care for him-but I don’t wanna be his _Master_. Like what the fuck is that about?” Dean set the coffee mug down, suddenly feeling empty and not needing anything in his system. Why would Castiel _want_ to be owned? Wasn’t this about freeing him? Letting him choose his own path?

 

“Well, you don’t have a choice,” Chuck snapped, almost angrily as he walked over to serve Sam and Gabriel breakfast. “You chose to help Castiel, and he has chosen you, Dean. He loves you, and you need to show him that same affection… Angels are programmed to attach to one human, and he chose you. Feel glad that he’s chosen you, feel honored. I would be.”

 

Dean shook his head and ran a hand over his face. This was just too much to take in; he wanted to _free_ Castiel from being a pet. He wanted the angel to choose for himself… but maybe he had already. Perhaps he had shown Castiel a sense of freedom, and the angel had still chosen him over everything else. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have any feelings for the angel. He had found himself checking him out more than once, wondering what it would be like to sleep with him… but he hadn’t wanted to take advantage of Castiel either. That wouldn’t have been right. But in the same breath, he wanted Castiel to feel loved and whole; he was just happy to have found the angel in his bed, considering the angel had been so distant lately.

 

Even if the purring freaked him out a bit.

 

“I just want him happy,” Dean said tiredly, which was true.

 

“Then, you need to be a good owner for him,” Chuck replied. “Tend to him, care for him, love him. He will gladly do the same for you.”

 

The coffee mug stared up at him, a brown eye against the marble countertop. It swirled and shifted, not able to settle due to Chuck moving around the kitchen quickly, with determination to continue making food as creatures all roused from their sleep, and began to arrive for food. The sky was gray and dreary today, and slowly rain began to fall and patter against the glass panes. Dean pushed back against the counter to gain some momentum as he walked out of the kitchen and back down the hallway towards the staircase. The stairs creaked beneath his feet as he walked up towards the long hall of bedrooms. Everyone had a door sign of who lived where, even they did now. Gabriel had made them, covering them in crude stick figure drawings, but they made Gabe happy so Chuck allowed him to make them. It also helped Dean remember which door was theirs; they had a drawing of two cats with a heart over their heads. It was weirdly cute.

 

Castiel was still lying in bed, curled up in the blankets, his wings draped around him comfortably; he resembled an overgrown cat in Dean’s opinion. It made him smile. The door shut quietly, and Dean slowly walked over to ease down onto the bed, laying a hand on a soft wing, petting the warm feathers. Castiel’s eyes slowly opened again and Dean gave him a small smile. “Hey Cas,” he whispered.

 

“Good morning, Dean,” Castiel replied. “Am I needed?”

 

Dean smiled and leaned down to press a warm kiss against Castiel’s forehead. “You’re always needed, Cas.”

 

Castiel chirped and sat up. As the angel rose, he used his momentum to press their lips together in a chaste, but eager kiss. Dean could feel the black wings wrapping around him, and soon he was pressed against Castiel’s chest and torso. Dean slowly opened his mouth, and he felt Castiel’s tongue slowly slide into his mouth, tentative, and unsure. He used Castiel’s nervousness to his advantage, and slid their tongues together in a slowly press; the wings that wrapped around him, were fluttering against his body. The angel was aroused, he could feel Castiel’s erection pressing against his hip.

 

“Dean,” Castiel gasped when Dean pulled away to catch his breath.

 

“I care about you Cas, and… if you need me to keep you and own you, I will,” Dean said slowly. “But, you are still your own _person_ , okay? You don’t need to ask my permission to do things or anything like that.”

 

Castiel nodded slightly and then they were kissing again, and Dean allowed them to fall back against the pillows, Castiel on top of him. The angel’s wings slowly lifted and rose toward the ceiling. Dean began to run his teeth and tongue down along Castiel’s strong jaw, toward his neck. He smelled like earth and flowers, like nature, and water. Castiel smelled like everything that made Dean happy and feel safe. He smelled _good_. “How do you do that?” he whispered against Castiel’s skin.

 

“Do what?” the angel returned in a low growl, grinding their hips and pelvises together.

 

Dean gulped and shuddered at the sensations running through his body; it was if a million hands were running all over his body, inside his body, everywhere. It was overwhelmingly pleasurable. “Smell so good?” he panted.

 

Castiel kissed him again. “I don’t know,” the angel said slowly.

 

Dean groaned out loud when he felt something press against his prostate; it had to be Castiel’s Grace working his body. Only an angel could make him feel this full and attended to without actually touching him.  “Cas,” he hissed, wrapping his fingers in Castiel’s feathers. “Wait-wait-”

 

The angel gave pause and tilted his head to the side slightly. “No?” he asked.

 

“Not yet,” he whispered. “Not yet. Wait.” Once he said the words, Castiel pulled away and they stared at each other, their pupils dilated, the color practically swallowed by blackness, as they attempted to catch their breath. Dean slowly used his elbows to sit up, and despite his aching erection, Dean chose to ignore his body’s needs. Jumping into bed with an angel was not what he had had in mind. Taking care of Castiel, letting him know that he _would_ care for him, yes, but not jumping into bed with him.

 

“I understand,” Castiel answered, his voice low and gruff with lust. “I will leave you alone.”

 

Dean sighed and ran a hand over his face. “No, it’s okay...I’ll um...I ’ll go take a shower, you just-stay here-and… do what you gotta do.” Did angels even masturbate? Did they know how to do that? Dean shook his head, deciding not to ask, and instead left to go to the shower, turning the water on cold. It would be a shock to his system, but that was the point, he tried to remind himself before stepping into the icy water. He couldn’t have prepared himself for the cold bite that hit his skin, but at least it made him forget about sex, and his dick practically crawled back inside his body.

 

Now he could relax and think straight.

 

Castiel was his pet, which was still extremely odd to say or think, but that was what the angel had been made for, so that was what he was more or less programmed to respond to. Dean didn’t _want_ to own Castiel, and he was going to use the term ‘own’ very loosely. He would not command Castiel around, and tell him what to do, and when to do it. The angel could live his own life, and be his own person, whether he believed he had personhood or not. He would however care for Castiel, love him, and treat him with respect. But if Castiel needed him to use the term _own_ , he would, even if it was still a bizarre concept for him. And this would make Castiel happy, and that was what he wanted: for Castiel to be _happy_.

 

And free, but they could work on that later.

 

Having sex with his angel was going to have to be discussed. Was that some form of bestiality? Was it even appropriate for _owners_ and their pets to have sexual relationships? Surely, since Castiel was mostly humanoid, it would be alright… and it wasn’t as if he hadn’t thought about it before, because he _had_. Castiel was attractive, and the angel had chosen _him_. He had broken through some weird mind control for _him_. The angel  had given up so much for him. That surely earned them rights to kiss and share a bed together. But he didn’t know Castiel that well, but did that even matter? Sex could just be sex, they didn’t need to have some weird emotions attached to the act. They could just _fuck_. There was nothing wrong with just fucking for comfort.

 

Dean sighed. This was becoming more complicated than he had ever wanted it to be. Shaking his head, Dean turned the water off and quickly wrapped up in a tower, his teeth chattering, and his body shaking. He had stayed in that cold water too long. Even the air felt cold as he dried off and redressed. But at least his boner was gone, and he could concentrate again. Now he just needed to talk with Castiel rationally about this. Maybe the angel would know the protocol on angel/human relationships. The angel was still in their bedroom, his wings were not visible now, and he was dressed in loose linens, but at least he wasn’t hard as rock anymore either. Good, they could _both_ concentrate.

 

“Sorry about that, Cas,” he said as he walked into the room. “Can I ask you something?”

 

“Of course, Dean.” Castiel came to stand with him, his knowledge of personal space clearly low.

 

Dean took a slight step back to give them breathing room. “What’s the um... _protocol_ on angel and human relationships?”

 

“You mean us?” Castiel asked.

 

“Well yeah… I mean, is it allowed..?” Dean bit his lip slightly. Part of him hoped that it was, but then this other part of him worried that one day Castiel would just keep on living, and he would pass on. What would that do to the angel when he was no longer there to love him?

 

“I don’t know,” Castiel replied sincerely. “I do not have that answer, Dean. But I _love_ you. I feel very strongly for you, as if we were meant to be together. Do you understand?”

 

He did understand, which was the bizarre thing. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I do.”

 

The problem was that he couldn’t shake the bad feeling he had, no matter how much he tried.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

_“How many doses has he had?”_

 

_“Ten, Sir.”_

 

_“_ Ten _?! That is way above the cap I gave you-”_

 

_“We know, Sir but he has been stubborn. His brain is slowly reforming itself, and he is more powerful than we could have ever imagined. I fear that we have made something we cannot control-”_

 

_“Nonsense. He can be controlled, that was the point of the serum.”_

 

_Castiel slowly opened his eyes again and came face to face with a room full of scientists, still working over him like their own personal experiment. He could hear the evil man’s voice, and the head scientist. They were talking about him. They were talking about...someone. Someone he knew. The face was so fuzzy in his mind._

 

_“You are going to make Winchester his enemy. When he sees that man again, he will kill him. End of story, do you understand me?”_

 

_“Yes, Sir.”_

 

_“Good.”_

 

_Castiel watched as the head scientist returned and then he was being stabbed with more needles. Darkness swam his vision and Castiel had no choice but to allow his heavy eyes to close one more_.

 

**◆** **◇** **◆** **◇**

 

Dean’s tired eyes were hard to keep open but he could not stop staring at Castiel either. He smiled slightly at the peace the angel found in his sleep; peace he had not been able to find in his waking life. The sanctuary was eerily quiet this morning, the only noise Dean could discern was Castiel’s breathing. He slid his hand over to angel’s hand, his fingers lightly brushing along Castiel’s soft skin. They had been through so much together, and even though they had found peace and quiet here, Dean still felt a sense of dread in his stomach. How safe were they really from Roman’s reach? How safe could they _ever_ be? His eyes grew too heavy, and slowly Dean allowed them to close.

 

Sleep almost came; he was on the cusp of dreaming when he heard the first startling scream, and the smell of smoke permeated his nose. The noise startled them both to being fully awake, and Castiel sat up, his wings immediately draping around him in a protective gesture. Dean stared at the horror that was smoke tendrils crawling under their door frame. The screams thereafter were just a constant backdrop. The sanctuary was on fire. Dean leapt to his feet and reached to touch the door handle but it was hot, so hot it burned.

 

“Sam!” he screamed. “Sam!”

 

The only response he received were screams. Castiel had his arms around him in an instant and then he was standing outside with some of the angels and creatures whom had escaped. He screamed for his brother but Castiel held him back. He screamed until he went hoarse and then Castiel looked at him. His eyes so haunted, as if he had done this before.

 

“I will go to him Dean, _stay_ ,” the angel said firmly, and then he was gone.

 

Dean stared at the house that was burning so rapidly, Dean began to wonder what had set it on fire. The smell of accelerant was in the air. He turned his eyes around the crowd, which was much smaller than he would have liked. Gabriel and Anna were not with them. Screaming became the backdrop for their burning evening, and hot tears filled his eyes. Someone had purposefully set the sanctuary on fire, trying to kill them all in their sleep. Dean screamed weakly for Sam one more time. He couldn’t be dead, not again. Not when Sam’s room was right across from his, not when he could have saved his brother this time. Like when they were young, and their house fire had consumed their mother. He had carried Sam out.

 

Or that was what he had been told. He didn’t remember doing it, but his father had told him that he had been the one to carry Sammy from the flames. Sam couldn’t die, not like this. Not like their mother.

 

The door to the sanctuary filled with a dark shadow and then slowly it took shape and Dean’s heart thrummed heavily in his chest. Castiel was carrying Sam out in his arms, staggering, and almost dropping his little brother to the ground. Another angel, he did not know their name came to rescue him, but as soon as Castiel had Sam out, he was returning to the burning house, despite Chuck’s protests. Dean wanted to call for Castiel, but he ran to Sam instead. He cupped his brother’s face, and someone was pouring water in his mouth. He didn’t question where the water came from, he just begged Sam over and over to wake up.

 

“Sammy, c’mon. Wake up. _Wake up Sammy_ ,” he said, his voice on the verge of tears. “ _Sam!”_

 

**◆** **◇** **◆** **◇**

 

_They were waking him up. Castiel slowly slid his eyes open and there were scientists staring down at him, all in a group. That was when he felt it, his Grace was back. He sat up and the men and women took two steps back, but Castiel stared at them all coldly. Someone was talking to him, but he ignored them. These people had been holding him prisoner for too long. When Castiel shut his eyes, he saw a face against his eyelids. He couldn’t remember his name, but he had a warm smile, and beautiful freckles and green eyes. When his power rang out and heat surged from his body, the screams filled his ears, Castiel focused on that man._

 

_He was important._

 

_The mystery man, and Castiel knew that he would meet him soon._

 

_When he opened his eyes, the room was charred, and the bodies were all ash and bone on the ground. He flicked his eyes up to the viewing window, and the man he had sworn to himself that he would kill, stared down at him in surprise. His mouth was in an o shape, and his skin about as white as his undershirt. Castiel smiled at him. “You’re next,” he promised._

 

**◆** **◇** **◆** **◇**

 

“Hey, hey… thank God,” Dean whispered, his body shaking as Sam’s eyes slowly opened. “Hey Sammy.”

 

Sam stared up at him for a moment, as if he were trying to remember who he was. “Dean?”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re okay. Cas-Cas got ya,” he whispered. Dean yanked his brother into his arms and held him, right there in the dirt and grass where they had carried Sam away from the house. He held on for so long that Dean forgot about the horrors happening behind him. The firemen had arrived, and they were trying to contain the fire so it did not spread to the woods. “They’re gonna evacuate us.”

 

Sam looked at him again, and when Dean saw his face, he saw his young brother again, just a boy who was afraid and worried. “Dean, Cas…”

 

Dean swallowed. Castiel had emerged from the house with his brother Gabriel in his arms, a fireman on his tail. According to the men, Castiel had crouched over his brother and wrapped his wings around him to keep him safe from falling rubble and flames. Gabriel had been trapped beneath a fallen book shelf and other debris. He had dug Gabriel free, and in the process, Castiel had received burns all over his hands, arms, and wings. But Gabriel was alive, and that had been Castiel’s mission, to save his brother just as much as he had saved Sam.

 

“He’s okay,” he whispered, which was a half truth.

 

“He saved me,” Sam whispered. “I remember...I-remember him coming in…”

 

“Yeah, he said he was going to get you-”

 

“No, Dean. I mean that _night_. Of the fire, with Mom? He saved us...I remember, it was Cas. It was _Cas_.”

 

Dean frowned. “Sammy, I carried you out,” he insisted. “Dad said I did it.”

 

Sam stared up and him and shook his head. “I swear it was Cas. I remember his eyes. I _remember_ , Dean.”

 

Dean shook his head and pulled Sam in close to his body again. They both tried not to think about that night, since it was so painful. It couldn’t be right, H.E.A.V.E.N. had not been invented yet, the angels had not been made when they had been children. It was impossible for Castiel to have been there at the night of the fire. Dean shut his eyes and bit back tears. This was all too familiar, and still they did not know who had lit the fire, but Dean had his guesses. Chuck came over to gather them up, and they were going in town to to the hospital, he said. The ambulances were taking them, it was time to go.

 

Shakily, Dean helped Sam up to his feet, and walked him towards an ambulance, despite Sam protesting that he was fine. He ignored Sam’s pleas and his eyes fell on the house that was burning to the ground. The firemen were doing their best to put the fire out, but it still raged on, even as they were all being taken away. Dean’s eyes fell on a man in the crowd, his face cold, and familiar. He stared, and then he knew. He knew who had lit the fire, and he knew who he had to put a bullet through.

 

**◆** **◇** **◆** **◇**

 

“Why can’t he heal himself?” Dean whispered to Chuck as they sat together in the hospital. Castiel was lying in a bed, hooked up to many different machines and tubes, one of them, he was fairly sure, was breathing for the angel. His burns had been worse than they had first thought, and Castiel was not fine. They weren’t sure he was going to last the night.

 

“When an angel is severely injured, they go into a sort of...hibernation,” Chuck explained quietly. “They are not aware that this is happening, and his body is trying to repair itself, but his trauma may be too great. I do not know if he can pull himself together enough to heal his body, Dean. Even angels can die.”

 

Swallowings tears had never felt so difficult, but Dean managed to shakily keep them at bay. “But he’s an _angel_ , he’s magical, and magnificent...he can’t die over a fucking _fire_.”

 

“Castiel was still healing mentally over what happened to him. Mental and physical damage is quite similar in an angel’s perspective, and all of the mental trauma has weakened him,” Chuck whispered sadly. “I’m sorry Dean, all we can do now is hope that Castiel pulls through. There is nothing else to be done for him.”

 

“He _saved_ my life, he saved _Sam’s_ life. More than once. There has to be something we can do!’ Dean roared in agony. He wasn’t going to let his angel die, not like this. Not when it was _Roman_ who lit that fire; Castiel couldn’t let that bastard win. “Can he hear us? In this hibernation thing? Can he hear me?”

 

“That is up for debate, it much like coma patients,” Chuck replied slowly. “But I imagine he could hear someone he truly cares about.”

 

Dean nodded before walking over to kneel by Castiel’s bed, his voice a whisper. “I know who did it Cas,” he told his angel quietly. “It was _Roman_. He did it, and you can’t die and let him win. You have to get up and prove him wrong. Okay? You can do it. You were a hero Cas, and-...I…” Dean cut off, his voice growing too emotional and wavery. He had to swallow thickly before continuing, but now his voice remained with the threat of tears. “I owe you, you saved Sammy’s life, and I’m gonna do what I can to save yours, okay? You can do this, Cas. You’re _better_ than him. You’re better than Roman. You’re better than all of them. You live, and I’ll be here when you wake up.”

 

He couldn’t stop the tears afterwards. The levees broke and Dean could only press his forehead to the bed in agony, sobbing desperately, and praying to whoever was listening to spare Castiel’s life. Chuck left him be, and Dean continued to sob helplessly. There was nothing else he could do, except wait. So Dean shut his eyes, and prayed.

 

**◆** **◇** **◆** **◇**

_“Castiel! Come and play Castiel!”_

 

_The grass was so green, he recognized the color; it felt so familiar, but he couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember what the color made him think of. It was  a nagging feeling in the back of his mind, but Castiel turned around instead. The voice was of his sister Anna, and there she was, young and small. Her hand slid into his and Castiel smiled down at her, before he allowed her to pull him away. Heaven was so beautiful today, with the sky was blue as Gadreel’s eyes, and as radiant as Michael’s wings._

 

_And there they all were. His brother’s and sister’s all waiting for him. Their wings in splendour, and their smiles radiant. He smiled back at them. Everything was so perfect, and wonderful here. But there was something amiss, something not quite right. And why did the green make him think of something else? What_ was _that something else? What was it-it was something important…_

 

_“Aren’t you coming Cas?” Anna asked him._

 

_Castiel frowned and looked at all of them. Someone was calling his name, and he knew, in  his heart, that if he went with his siblings, he would not come back. And that was bad, he knew. He had to go back, but why? What was there for him? Just pain. Pain, agony, and loneliness._

 

_“Cas, c’mon,” Anna insisted. “_ C’mon _!!”_

 

_“Yes, come along Castiel,” Michael said, his voice solemn and serious, as it always was. “It is time to go.”_

 

_“No,” he said. “No, there’s something else. I’m not-it’s not time to go..”_

 

_“It is,” Balthazar told him, his warm smile on his face. “It’s time to go Cassie. C’mon.”_

 

_Castiel took a step back away from his siblings and shook his head. “No,” he whispered. “_ No _.”_

 

_“Castiel, this is nonsense! Come, come with us,” Michael continued, also holding out his hand to take._

 

_He took another step back and looked at the grass. It was the color of someone’s eyes. Someone he loved. Someone who was important to him. Someone who_ needed _him. “I can’t go,” he said, slowly looking back up at them. “Dean needs me.”_

 

_Dean. Yes. That was the important someone’s name._

 

Dean _._

 

_“It is too late Castiel-” Michael said, but he was turning and running away from them. As he ran, the world began to fall apart and the ground cracked and splintered. This was not Heaven. He did not know where he was, but it was not with his siblings. He was not going home. He had to get back to Dean._

 

_“Castiel! Cas...Castiel…”_

 

_Someone was saying his name. They were not his siblings. “Dean,” he whispered. “Dean!”_

 

_“Cas c’mon. Wake up Cas, you have to wake up. Cas. It’s important, you have to get better. C”mon Cas.”_

 

_He was trying! Why couldn’t Dean see that he was trying?! He shut his eyes and wished to wake up; he willed himself to open his eyes in reality. He had to wake up. No matter the pain, no matter what happened. He had to wake up for Dean. But when he opened his eyes, he found himself to be standing in a barren wasteland. There was nothing here, except a gray sky, and dead earth. So he screamed._

 

_He screamed for Dean. He screamed for his siblings. He screamed for himself. He screamed to wake up. He had to go wake up now, or he was going to die. The realization made him shut his eyes one more time._

 

**◆** **◇** **◆** **◇**

 

“Cas?” Dean watched, his breath caught in his chest, as Castiel’s eyes slowly began to open. “Cas?”

 

“Dean,” the angel replied tiredly, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Hello Dean.”

 

Dean smiled and pressed a kiss to Castiel’s forehead. “Thank God.”

 

Castiel sighed and began to take in his surroundings. They had taken off the breathing machine earlier this morning, and the angel’s body was slowly healing itself. “I heard your voice. You pulled me back.”

 

Dean nodded. “Good,” he whispered. “It’s good to see you awake. You gave us all a scare.”

 

Castiel nodded slightly. “I am very tired, Dean.”

 

“You can sleep...just wake up, okay? Promise me that you’ll wake up.”

 

Castiel slowly shut his eyes, and whispered, “I promise.”

 

“Cas?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“I love you, Cas. I love you so much...Wake up for me, and I’ll be here.”

 

“I love you too, Dean.”

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

“Dean? Dean wake up.”

 

Dean startled awake and slowly sat up. For a moment, he forgot where he was, and then he remembered. They were at a makeshift shelter with Chuck and the rest of the survivors. At least until the sanctuary could be rebuilt. Sam was staring at him, his eyes red, as if he had been crying. “Sam? What? What’s wrong?”

 

“Dean um...the hospital just called Chuck and um...they couldn’t get Castiel to wake up this morning. He died sometime last night,” Sam whispered. “He’s gone, Dean.”

 

Words wouldn’t come at first, as if someone had severed his vocal chords from his brain stem. He couldn’t speak, and he just stared at Sam as if his brother had grown an extra head. He was dreaming still, this was a dream, and Castiel was not _dead_. “I just spoke to him yesterday morning,” he finally managed to whisper. “He was awake. He said he’d wake up. He _promised_.”

 

“I’m sorry Dean,” Sam said quietly. “He was too weak, I guess. He was just too tired, he couldn’t do it.”

 

“ _No_ ,” Dean snarled. “No, no he’s fine. He’s _fine_. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Cas-he isn’t dead. No.” Dean shoved the blanket away and stood, reaching for his boots. Castiel was not dead, this was not real life. He would go to the hospital, and everything would be fine. “He’s not dead.”

 

“Dean-”

 

“I SAID HE’S NOT DEAD!” Dean screamed, shoving Sam away from him. The angel would live, this would all be a mistake. He was back to hibernating, that’s all. Castiel would not be _dead_ when he got to the hospital.

 

“Dean wait!”

 

Dean ignored Sam’s call and stormed outside where he would walk to the hospital; it was only ten minutes away walking. In those ten minutes Dean had convinced himself that Castiel was fine, and he would not find his friend dead inside. He would not be in the morgue. He just wouldn’t be. The nurse at the station smiled at him when he walked in, and when he asked for Castiel, her smile faded away.

 

“I’m sorry Sir, he passed away last night,” she told him.

 

Dean steeled himself and shook his head. “I wanna see him,” he said firmly. “I want to see him right now.”

 

That was how he ended up in the cold morgue, staring down at Castiel’s cold body, pale as the sheet that covered him. Even then, Dean tried to tell himself that Castiel was simply sleeping. The angel would wake up at any moment and smile up at him, happy to see him. As always. “Cas you gotta wake up,” he whispered. “You _promised_ me Cas. You said, ‘I promise’, and you gotta wake up now, okay? You gotta wake up. Please wake up Cas, c’mon. We gotta get Roman back for this. He can’t win, not like this. _Not like this Cas_.”

 

Castiel remained silent and unmoving on the metal slab.

 

“Cas please,” he whispered. “ _Please_ C’mon. _Wake up_. Wake up, damn it! You said you would! I told you I’d be here! And I’m _here_! I’m right here, Cas. I’m _right here_.” Dean didn’t stop his voice from cracking, or from the tears clogging up his nose and eyes, running down his face like runaway trains. He reached to shake Cas, begging him to wake up. He had to wake up, he just _had_ to wake up. “Cas, c’mon. We gotta go now, we gotta go find Roman. We gotta make him pay for what he did to you, and your friends. You can do it, Cas.”

 

The nurse was coming up to him to gently pull him away, even as he protested and screamed for Castiel to open his eyes. He didn’t want to leave his angel in this place. Not this cold, dark, and metallic place, that smelled like death. Castiel deserved to be under the trees, with nature, like he loved. He deserved to be with the flowers, and animals at the sanctuary. Not here. _Not here_.

 

“Let me take him, _please_. He doesn’t deserve to be down here! Not here. He wouldn’t want to be _here_ ,” Dean blubbered, even as the doors to the morgue were shut, and he was being led back to the elevator. “Not here. Not here.”

 

“I’m sorry, Sir,” the nurse replied quietly, as the elevator doors shut. “I’m really sorry.”

 

Sorry would not bring Castiel back to him. Sorry would not allow the angel’s eyes to stare up at the sky in wonder, or to take in the world with a smile. Sorry would change _nothing_. Dean stormed out of the elevator, and walked back to the shelter. He was going to find Roman, and he was going to kill the son of a bitch if it was the last thing he did. Sam was waiting for him when he got back, and his brother wrapped his arms around him, and let him sob. And he did, he sobbed until he couldn’t anymore. Castiel was dead, and nothing would ever be the same again.

 

**◆** **◇** **◆** **◇**

 

_“Sir, we put the chip in him, like you asked.”_

 

_Roman glanced up from his paperwork. “Good. And his Grace?”_

 

 _“That we cannot tamper with any further, Sir. He is still charged heavily. However, when he is put on ice, so to speak,  he will slow down, and he will appear dead. For all intensive purposes, he_ will _be dead. But he can be restarted once his energy has restored itself.”_

 

_Roman nodded. “Good. Put him down for now, I wil not have another accident like there was earlier, am I understood?”_

 

_“Yes Sir.”_

 

**◆** **◇** **◆** **◇**

 

“You have a good night Sir.”

 

Roman ignored the voice of his assistant as he walked out towards his car. It was dark, which was not when he usually went home, but he had been busy signing contract after contract. He was going to be quite rich once he filed the insurance policies on the dead angels he had lost to the fire. He smiled to himself; he always won, no matter what it cost. In the end, he always won.

 

The parking lot was silent as he climbed into his car, which he always left unlocked, since the surveillance was so good out here. Who was going to try and rob _him_ anyway? That would have been the last thing they ever did. Once the doors were shut and locked, Roman went to start his car and froze when he felt something press against the back of his head. He was most certain it was a gun. He flicked his gaze to the rearview mirror and came eye to eye with an infuriated Dean Winchester.

 

“Shouldn’t leave your car unlocked, anyone could get in,” Dean commented casually.

 

Slowly he raised his hands and sat back away from the steering wheel. “Dean Winchester, it is good to see you again.”

 

“Oh yeah, _so_ good to see you, Dick,” Dean replied coldly. “You killed Castiel, you _son of a bitch_.”

 

He frowned. “Castiel is dead?” he asked.

 

“Yeah. He’s lying in a fucking _morgue_ because of you, and I’m gonna pull this trigger and let exploded _Dick_ cover your van. You’re a piece of shit, and I’m doin’ this for Cas.”

 

“Mr. Winchester, Castiel is most assuredly _not_ dead. He is-he can _appear_ to be dead, but I promise you-he is not-”

 

“He ain’t breathin’, you sack of shit, he’s cold as ice, he’s dead,” Dean snarled, cocking the gun in his hand.

 

“Wait-Mr. Winchester, I _promise_ you, Castiel is not dead. His energy is needing of replenishing. Once his energy is replenished, he will restore himself to normal. He will be fine.”

 

“Why should I believe you?” Dean asked slowly.

 

“Because, Mr. Winchester, I _made_ Castiel. I made him. I know his ins and outs, I know when he is dead, and when he is not. A few burns would not have killed him, I can assure you-now please-put the gun down-” Roman gulped and slid his hand to press the panic button he had in his pocket. It would alert all security.

 

“I ain’t gonna let you live, sorry-” Dean pressed the gun hard against his head.

 

For a moment, Roman shut his eyes and waited for the nothingness that he assumed happened after one passed on, but someone was yanking open his back car door, and Dean was being pulled from his vehicle. He could relax. Straightening his jacket, Roman stepped out of the car and smiled, picking up the gun that Dean had dropped. “This is a nice piece, Mr. Winchester, I’m going to enjoy using it after I shoot you.”

 

Dean snarled and fought against the men who held him, but soon he was being held completely still. “Fuck you,” Dean snapped.

 

“Are you sure you want _those_ to be your last words, Dean? I would think you would have rather had something else a little more clever than tha-” Roman trailed off when he heard the sound of wings. The look on Dean’s face confirmed it. “Hello Castiel.”

 

**◆** **◇** **◆** **◇**

 

Roman’s body dropped to the ground, his eyes completely burnt out of his skull. Dean stared at it in shock. Castiel was standing there, very much alive, his wings out in their full grace and glory, and his eyes glowing a fierce, cosmic blue. The men who held him were fleeing, and probably smartly so, because Dean had a feeling Castiel would have killed them next.

 

“Cas,” he whispered. “You were dead.”

 

“No,” Castiel said, his voice ringing in the parking lot. “I was restoring myself. I did not mean to frighten you Dean, I am very sorry.”

 

Tears were returning to his eyes and then he threw his arms around Castiel’ tightly. “You son of a bitch,” he whispered affectionately. The angel slid his arms and wings around in him in return, and Dean felt whole again. “You son of a fucking bitch, don’t you do that again, you hear me?”

 

“I promise Dean,” Castiel whispered against his ear. “I promise.”

 

**◆** **◇** **◆** **◇**

 

Dean glanced up from the book he had been reading to where Castiel stood in the garden, glaring down at a batch of flowers that he could not seem to get to grow. He smirked slightly. After Roman's death, their lives had been more peaceful. After Castiel had been completely one hundred percent again, they had paid dear Crowley a visit.

 

That had been one hell of a light show.

 

"Hey Cas," he called.

 

Castiel turned. "Yes?"

 

"How about we go get lunch, maybe we could stop by the garden store, get some fertilizer see if it does anything." 

 

Castiel frowned, looking unhappy with this idea. "Dean, I should be able to make my flowers grow just fine on their ow-." 

 

"Just humor me, Cas," he replied with a wink, standing up slowly. "Please?" 

 

When his angel huffed, Dean could not help but smile to himself. They would be fine. 


End file.
